Stapleton – Earl Sweatshirt – letras

[verse 1]It’s earl, mr. early bird, gets them girls with curvy curvesSkate mental, truck smack a faggot in his shirley templeYour rhymes rentals, give ’em back to they ownersAt the end of the bar, I spit with the permanentsLearn I’m a curb stomping personLike third strike verdict dropping jaw dropping versesThis bigger lips in person, nigga spits some burn so urn the shitFurnish the flow until my pockets green, kermit’s dickThe miss piggies with a string in they assI control them like your eyes when I’m tinking a glassSo if you thinking about dissing stop thinking it fastCause my wolves ten deep and they knuckles is brass, hoThe miss piggies with a string in they assI control them like your eyes when I’m tinking a glassSo if you thinking about this then stop thinking it fastCause my wolves ten deep and they knuckles is brass, bitch[hook]Tell your boyfriend that’s a bat and this a migraineDon’t ask why my jeans splattered with these white stainsWait, where you going, what you doing tonight?Just want to know what you doing, come backTell your boyfriend that’s a bat and this a migraineDon’t ask why my jeans splattered with these white stainsWhere you going, what you doing tonight?Stop running, where you going, what you doing?[verse 2]It’s earl, mr. lateshift, rapist in trainingWho edge about as straight as some clay closet gay dickRay say hey earl’s a real charming racistYour birthday day, have some kk cake bitchHabit have it, grab it fast and attack it, faggotI’m above average like I’m rapping in the attic, yeahI’m crouched in the basement shouting « couch » is the greatest hitDirty as a anus is, fans stand in rain for thisThey even stand in sleet season until they fucking feet bleedingHail and fucking snow, in hell with fucking coatsProbably wear more layers, there’s only one sweatshirtHe make them bow down until they mothafucking necks hurtFans probably stand in sleet season until they fucking feet bleedingHail and fucking snow, in hell with fucking coatsProbably wear more layers, there’s only one sweatshirtHe make them bow down ’til they mothafucking necks hurt[hook][verse 3]Mr. deerskin moccasins is on the fucking stalk againFollowing and stalking all them larchmont soccer chicksChopping limbs, gnawing legs, through they fuckin’ stockingsHim his grandfather sweatshirt, clockin’ all them cardigansProduct of popped rubbers and pops that did not love usSo when I leave home keep my heart on the top cupboardSo I will not stutter when I’m shoutin’ fuck you, sonWolf gang ’bout it, we ain’t waitin’ ’til the moon comeWoo son, the moonshine got feelin’ looseAs the puss of a whore who’s used to abuseMy screws pretty loose mind fucked like the hair-doosOf doo-doo mamas, dude I will bear jew youYou unripe fruit dudes is crews to chew throughMy niggas wash ’em down with a fat carton of yoo-hooOdd future wolf gang kill them all fuck ’em allNo lube, it’s the crew to get use to, faggot