[Intro: Earl Sweatshirt]
I know everyone has their own fucking version of this
But no one did it justice, so
Here we go
Ugh

[Verse: Earl Sweatshirt]
Tell your bitch to stop complaining 'bout her achy tits
Her body is a temple—I don't give a fuck, I'm atheist
Make me stop, make me, bitch, she mad because I taped the shit
And sent the tape to Ace and Taco—helps 'em fucking 'bate to it
Master, master, pretty bitch basher
Black and white bitch, mixed like she moo and chew grass or somethin'
Sorta like the shit, I guess I'd kinda like my bitch
If she wasn't a dyke motorcyclist with Tyson lisp
Wolf Gang on that "drive without a license" shit
On that "take Shake and Meka necks and fuckin' slice them shits"
Oh, how nice—now, you wanna say you like the shit
Because you bruised up, your neck sliced, and I ain't icing shit
Show me a rapper my age that say he nice as this
And I'll show you a faggot that say he hate Barbara Streisand flicks
Show me a rapper my age that say he nice as this
And I'll show you a faggot that say he hate Barbara Streisand flicks
Me and Berman swervin' in the jeep
I'm a nice guy in person, but a pervert in the sheets
And I'm magic with the words, murder Merlin over beats
Make the competition kiss the fuckin' curb, and then they weep
And then they drop