Oldie Letra |
Artista: OFWGKTA
Letra de canción de música |
Oldie letra de OFWGKTA lyrics
(Intro: Taco) |
Yo, shout out to everybody that worked on the album |
You feel me, son? Yo, shouts out to Ty Dollas |
Shouts out to Hodgy Daddies, shouts out to Left Brizzle |
Shouts out to Domyon, shouts out to Frankie Ocean |
Shouts out to Syd the Dude, shouts out to L-Boy Awk |
(Verse 1: Tyler the Creator) |
Big eared bandit is tossing all his manners |
In a bag and wrapping them in seran wrap bandages |
Tossing them in baskets with the rest of those sandwiches |
So when he says "catch up, nigga" it looks like an accident |
Um, flowing like my pad is the maxiest |
My bitch white and black like she's been mimicking a panda |
It's the dark skinned nigga, kissing bitches in Canada |
Then kicking all out like Mr. Lawrence did Pamela |
Put her in the chamber all against her Wilt Chamberlain |
I never had a reason, nigga, I was just able |
Not a fucking Logic contradicting dick head |
Flyer than an ostrich moshing in a tar pit |
Semen scented cheetah printed tee |
In that 'Preme five panel, I'll repeat it for the season |
Previous items in the present |
With the normal ass past like I cheated on my team |
Man (tried to get that nigga, but, Golf Wang) |
(Verse 2: Hodgy Beats) |
To have some type of knowledge that is one perception |
But knowing you own your opponent is a defeating bonus |
I'm Zeus to a Kronos |
Cartilage cartridge is boneless |
Smiles of cowards in lead showers |
Dead spouses in red blouses |
Children who fled houses on Mustang horses and went jousting |
I'm on my Robin Hood shit |
Robbin' in the hood: whips, drugs, jewels, and your pet |
Stealing your rings, coke diamonds and your Vet |
Soldiers lace the fuckin' boot |
And salute like the troop when you shoot you gon' poop |
It's Killhodgy, nigga, stay the fu*koff my stoop |
And out my Kool aid, Juice |
(Verse 3: Left Brain) |
Hodgy got the juice, I got the gin |
Jasper got the Henny, my nigga we get it in |
Wolf Gang party at the hotel |
I call a ho, you call a ho, and all the hoes tell |
You know Left Brain need a freak |
I need a bitch to go down like a Nitty beat |
Yup, uh, and her ass fat |
Don't be surprised if I ask where the hash at |
Nigga I'm tryin' to smoke, bitch get higher |
Domo where that Flocka Flame? Talkin' 'bout a lighter |
Still bang salute me or just shoot me |
Cause if you don't salute me then my team will do the shooting |
Yea my nigga Ace will pull the black jack |
The king Mike G is in the cut with the black mac |
Livin' like the Mafia, bitch, don't get to slacking up |
And if these haters actin' up, throw 'em in the aqueduct |
Free my nigga Earl, yo, I don't really ask for much |
But two bad bitches in front of me cunnilingus |
(Verse 4: Mike G) |
What the fu*kis caution? |
Often I leave you flossin' and cause exes next to coffins |
Lost in translation, the dreams you chase |
Got you diving for the plates like you stealin' home base |
That's great - I'm home alone dreamin' of two on ones |
With Rihanna and Christina Milian, bring it on |
And Travis is in the closet organizing and hangin' the tramp |
Three lettermans that Ace has been makin' him |
No strays while we catchin' matinees, huh? |
I'm gettin' blazed thinking 'bout those days |
I had the top off the GT3 like toupees |
One finger in the air, all's fair when crime pays |
My grand scheme of things |
Is to be attached to the game like bitches to their wedding rings |
And you don't even need to look |
Cause we gleam obscene in the light |
Ride slow to my yellow diamond shining like the Batman logo over Gotham |
Rock LA to Harlem |
If you say "get 'em Mike G" then I got 'em |
One man squadron, nigga I'm a problem |
From Briggs I got bars and plans to |
Pimp these Polish bitches into pop stars |
Humanity kills, we all suffer from insanity still |
And if I said it then it is or it's gonna be real |
OF 'til I OD and I probably will, uh |
(Verse 5: Domo Genesis) |
It's still Mr. Smoke-a-lot-of-pot |
Get your baby mommy popped with my other snobby bop |
Do I love her, prolly not |
Know your shit is not as hot as anything I fuckin' drop |
Bitch I'm in the zone, stand alone, like Macaulay Cock |
I've been runnin' blocks since a snotty tot |
Big wheel was a big deal with the water Glock |
Now I'm all grown, sing songs just to give 'em watts |
Fire what I talk, but still cooler than the otter pop |
Op Dom neck shit in your wish list |
Mad sick shit, mad dick for your bitches |
On some slick shit, your mistress on my hit list |
And I'm lifted 'til I'm stiff out of this bitch |
Odd in your motherfuckin' area |
Blood clots give me five feet 'fore I bury ya |
Suicide flow, let the big wave carry ya |
Tyler got the mask like he held Jim Carey up |
And fu*kyour team, ho nigga wassup |
Wolf Gang so you know we not givin' no fucks |
You know me dog, I'm a chill in the cut so I can |
Cut it short, break it down, couple pounds, roll it up |
(Get me a Persian rug where the center looks like Galaga) |
(Verse 6: Frank Ocean) |
Rent a super car for a day |
Drive around with your friends, smoke a gram of that haze |
Bro, easy on the ounce, that's a lot for a day |
But just enough for a week, my nigga what can I say |
I'm hi and I'm bye, wait I mean I'm straight |
I'm a give you this wine, the runner just brought the grapes |
My brother give it some time, Morris, and Day |
'Course you know the vibe's as fly as the rhymes |
On the song, cut and you could sample the feel |
Headphone bleed, make this shit sound real |
Used to work the grill, fatburger and fries |
Then I made a mil and them psychics was liars |
Now, how many fuckin' crystal balls can I buy and own |
Humble old me had to flex for the fogs |
Down in Muscle Beach pumpin' iron and bone |
Bumpin' oldies off my cellular phone |
Yea, bumpin' oldies off my cellular phone |
(Verse 7: Jasper Dolphin) |
Goddammit, this rapping is stupid and it's hard |
Gotta do it over and over and over again but here I go |
Hey it's Jasper, not even a rapper |
Only on this beat to make my racks grow faster |
Got a TV show, so I guess I'm an actor |
Pot head, half baked, lookin' like Chappelle |
Rollin' up a blunt with that fire from hell |
Still ignorant, still hit a bitch |
Wolf Gang, nigga, so I still don't give a shit |
Catch me in the back with Miley on my lap |
Bong rips as I feel on that little bitch cat |
Hah, nigga came through with a 9 bar real quick |
Just for the bitches, little bit of money in my pocket |
Fuck it, Wolf Gang |
(Verse 8: Earl Sweatshirt) |
Yeah, fu*kthat |
Look, for contrast is a pair of lips |
Swallowin' syrup and settin' fires to sheriffs whip |
Fuckin' all american terrorist |
Crushin' rapper larynx to feed 'em a fuckin' carrot stick |
And me? I just spent a year Ferrisin' |
And lost a little sanity to show you what hysterics is |
Spit to the lips meet the bottom of a barrel |
So that sterile piss flow remind these niggas where embarrassed is |
Narrow, tight line, might impair him |
Since I made it back to Fahrenheit, grimey get dinero type |
Pharoah fuckin' pillow tear wearin' pack of parasite |
Threw his own loofa off the roof after paradise |
La di da di back in here to fu*kthe party up |
Raiding fridges, tipping over vases with a tommy gun |
Never dollars, pop would make it rain hockey pucks |
60 day chips from fuckin' awesome anonymous |
Call him bloated 'til he show them that the flow deluxe |
Off the wall loafers, four loko, and a cobra clutch |
Vocals bold and rough, evoke a ho' to pose his drum |
Let me hit him, hit it with a stick until the ho was numb |
Culprit of the potent punch |
Scolding hot as dunking scrotum in a Folgers cup - or Nevada |
Driving drunk inside a stolen truck |
Shitting like his colon bust |
Belly full of chicken and a fifth of old petroleum |
Supernova, I'm rollin' over the novices |
I'm roamin' through the forest and spittin' cold as the porridge is |
Stay gold 'til the case closed and the story end |
Post mortem porkin' this rap shit and record it |
To escort it to the morgue again |
Lord of lips, bored of this |
Forklift the tippy top, best under 40 list |
Stormin' the gate, who's sure in the base, scorching ladies |
Fortunately these motherfuckers soarin', torso and face |
Get at me with savages, have a pack of Apache |
Indian pack of niggas who don't give a fu*kif we nasty as flatulence |
As a matter of fact, your swagger is tacky so see me you can't |
Like crunchy black cats in a taxi |
Back like lateral passing |
With that motherfucking gladiator manner of rapping |
As an addict I let percocets and xannies relax me |
Fall back if your paddies is Maxi |
Please |
(Verse 9: Tyler the Creator) |
OF, shit that's all I got |
From my bigger brother Frankie to my little brother Tac |
From that father figure Clancy to that skatey nigga Naks |
Shredding down 'Fax, Wolf Gang run the fuckin' block |
Storefront, Knee tat |
Book cover is the same lettering on lettermans and cotton socks |
And grip tape... and my shoes |
Um, I was 15 when I first drew that donut |
5 years later, for our label yea we own it |
I started an empire, I ain't even old enough |
To drink a fuckin' beer, I'm tipsy off this soda pop |
This is for the niggers in the suburbs |
And the white kids with nigger friends who say the n-word |
And the ones that got called weird, fag, bitch, nerd |
Cause you was into jazz, kitty cats, and Steven Spielberg |
They say we ain't actin' right |
Always try to turn our fuckin' color into black and white |
But they'll never change 'em, never understand 'em |
Radical's my anthem, turn my fuckin' amps up |
So instead of critiquing and bitching, being mad as fuck |
Just admit, not only are we talented, we're rad as fuck |
Bitches |
(Outro:) |
OFM, bangin' on your FM |
Gnaw, 2011, yea |
Golf Wang |
Traducción: - - -
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- Estilo: Hip Hop
- Álbum "The Odd Future Tape Vol. 2" del año (2012) .
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Discografía y :: Biografía.
The Odd Future Tape Vol. 2 |
01 Hi. |
02 Bitches |
03 NY (Ned Flander) |
04 Ya Know |
05 Forest Green |
06 Lean |
07 Analog 2 |
08 50 |
09 Snow White |
10 Rella |
11 Real Bitch |
12 White |
14 Hcapd |
15 Sam (Is Dead) |
16 Doms |
17 We Got Bitches |
18 Oldie |
La Canción 'Oldie' de OFWGKTA ,incluida en su disco 'The Odd Future Tape Vol. 2' en el año 2012 .Este track 18 del álbum The Odd Future Tape Vol. 2 es una de las mejores canciones Hip Hop ,junto a temas como "Oldie" , "Rella" , "Snow White" , "Sam (Is Dead)" , "Lean" , "Analog 2" , del que puedes ver sus letras de música .Con 4167 Visitas y 0 votos con 0,00 de puntuación. Otros discos del artista titulados - "The Odd Future Tape Vol. 2" del año 2012 y 2520 Visitas - "Radical" del año 2010 y 1917 Visitas - Tags: ( Lletra / lyrics ). Oldie Lyrics |