Couch – Earl Sweatshirt – letras

[Verse 1: Earl]Uh, was always smartmouthed and quick-wittedBut somethin’ was always missin’ like six digitsLucky seven probably poppaLittle nigga so they picked on him, hassled himThings changed when I hassled back, soDavid hit the pavement with this grapple rapSnapple fact: you rather wackWhile I am poppin’ like a snappin’ crackSo high you could see like Tallahass, the opposite of cataractsMatter fact I am Farmer John milkin’ cattle tracksAction packed nipple squeezin’, boy colder than sniffle seasonSimple genius, go hard and spit bits of semenSo when the street is split, don’t act surprised, agree with itThe Gang of Wolves and creeps and CripsIs deep as Dawson’s Creek and shitI pray they got gills either that or grab some floatiesI know I got skills, why you think I’m posted boastin’Braggin’ tell these faggots to stop naggin’Cause them Wolf Gang niggas threw them off the bandwagon like[Verse 2: Tyler]Uh, was always fucked up as shit with itBut I didn’t cross the line until the bridge hit it, trollI got you niggas nervous like virgins flirtin’ with Uncle MervinFuckin’ y’all with no lubricant, go grab the detergentI preach to demons at your church, now I’m the newest sermonWearin’ nothin’ but they fuckin’ blast with the matchin’ turbanI drive through white suburbans in the black Suburban swervin’Hittin’ curbs and blastin’ Erick Sermon drunk off English BourbonI’m stealin’ purses rapin’ nurses I’m a crooked surgeonAnd treat the beat like sanitized nazi pussies, I’m a GermanI’m squirtin’ while I’m masturbatin’ and regurgitatin’From eatin’ Miley Cyrus salad pussy platter they were servin’My only purpose is to jerk it cause it has a curveSo bitches hate to do me like it’s convict community serviceThis my Zombie Circus, you better get a fuckin’ ticketOdd Future Wolf Gang like they’re filmin’ Twilight in this bitch[Verse 3: Earl]I’m back on my sixty six sick shitFlowin’ like the blood out the competition’s slit wristsShe lick it up, Dracula, then spit it back, back at yaShe mad as fuck, stuck in the back of a black AcuraFed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at herHello Heather yellow feathers now you ain’t laughin’, huh[Verse 4: Tyler]Bitch you’re barely breathin’ leavin’ on the back of the boatWhile I fill you up with semen from the Wolf Gang team andFlowin’ like the creampie inside of your daughterOughta eat the bitch with salt and wash it down with a gallon of waterI grab the saw and sawed of her arm and auctioned itAnd dip her teeth in gold molds and flossed the shitFuckin’ awesome spittin’ box of trees, got you niggasShakin’ like it’s Parkinsons from the clitoris of Kelly Clarkson’s dickIronin’ you niggas now it’s time to starch the shitDrown your bitch in a tub of cum and throw a shark in itFind a random abandoned garage and go to park in itFind Earl lying on the burgundy carpet, pull my knife out, sharpen itStab him, put a arch on it, pour unleaded gas on himGet the Zippo and spark the shitHop back in the van and then depart the bitchKilled him on his own track, the faggot shouldn’t have started it