Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Stapleton , by - Earl Sweatshirt. Song from the album Earl, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 05.04.2015
Record label: Classic Hits
Song language: English
Stapleton |
| It’s Earl, Mr. Early Bird, gets them girls with curvy curves |
| Skate mental truck, smack a faggot in his shirley temple |
| Your rhymes rentals, give 'em back to they owners |
| At the end of the bar, I spit with the permanents |
| Learn I’m a curb stoppin' person |
| Like third strike verdict droppin' jaw droppin' verses |
| This bigger lips in person, nigga spits some ball’s Ernie shit |
| Furnish the flow until my pockets green, Kermit’s dick |
| The Ms. Piggy’s with a string in they ass |
| I control like 'em like your eyes when I’m takin' a glass |
| So if you thinkin' 'bout this then stop thinkin' it fast |
| Cause my wolves ten deep and they knuckles is brass, ho |
| The Ms. Piggy’s with a string in they ass |
| I control like 'em like your eyes when I’m takin' a glass |
| So if you thinkin' 'bout this then stop thinkin' it fast |
| Cause my wolves ten deep and they knuckles is brass, bitch |
| Tell your boyfriend that’s a bat and this a migrane |
| Don’t ask why my jeans splattered with these white stains |
| Wait, where you goin', what you doin' tonight? |
| Just wanna know what you doin', come back |
| Tell your boyfriend that’s a bat and this a migrane |
| Don’t ask why my jeans splattered with these white stains |
| Where you goin', what you doin' tonight? |
| Stop runnin', where you goin', what you doin'? |
| It’s Earl, Mr. Lateshift Rapist in trainin' |
| Who edge 'bout as straight as some clay-closet gay dick |
| Ray say hey Earl’s a real charming racist |
| Your birthday day, have some KK cake bitch |
| Habit have it, grab it fast and attack it, faggot |
| I’m above average like I’m rappin' in the attic, yeah |
| I’m crouched in the basement shoutin' «Couch"is the greatest hit |
| Dirty as the anus is, fans stand in rain for this |
| They even stand in sleet season 'til they fuckin' feet bleedin' |
| Hail and fuckin' snow in hell with fuckin' coats |
| Probably wear more layers, there’s only one Sweatshirt |
| He make 'em bow down 'til they muthafuckin' necks hurt |
| Fans probably stand in sleet season 'til they fuckin' feet bleedin' |
| Hail and fuckin' snow in hell with fuckin' coats |
| Probably wear more layers, there’s only one Sweatshirt |
| He make 'em bow down 'til they muthafuckin' necks hurt |
| Mr. Deerskin Moccasins is on the fuckin' stalk again |
| Followin' and stalkin' all them larchmont soccer chicks |
| Choppin' limbs, knawin' legs, through they fuckin' stockings |
| Him his grandfather sweatshirt, clockin' all them cardigans |
| Product of popped rubbers and pops that did not love us |
| So when I leave home keep my heart on the top cupboard |
| So I will not stutter when I’m shoutin' fuck you, son |
| Wolf Gang 'bout it, we ain’t waitin' 'til the moon come |
| Woo son, the moonshine got feelin' loose |
| As the puss of a whore who’s used to abuse |
| My screws pretty loose mind fucked like the hair-doos |
| Of doo-doo mamas, dude I will bear jew you |
| You unripe fruit dudes is crews to chew through |
| My niggas wash 'em down with a fat carton of yoo-hoo |
| Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All fuck 'em all |
| No lube, it’s the crew to get use to, faggot |