Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Tamale , by - Tyler, The Creator. Release date: 31.03.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Tamale |
| Smell my gooch, you could kiss my buns |
| And I don’t give a shit, ban my rectum |
| Somebody said bands make her dance |
| You think you’re getting cash, no bitch, you’re dumb |
| The only thing that you’re gonna get is this dick |
| Wait turn this up, bitch, this my jam (Where the drums at?) |
| Here, take a goddamn picture |
| And tell Spike Lee he’s a goddamn nigga |
| And while you’re at it, pass the lotion |
| And fapping and Xbox Live, that fun |
| Before I cum, I’m calling your sister |
| When she comes over, I take picture |
| Instantly put it on Instagram |
| And suplex her off a building if I get banned |
| Tamale! |
| Tamale! |
| Tamale! |
| Tamale! |
| Why y’all so salty? |
| Hot tamale is on |
| A can of beans, bitch, I’m on |
| Your boy is bad to the bone |
| Bring back the horns that was played in the beginning |
| And tell Tony Parker that I found his vision |
| And if he’s tripping off my sneak dissing |
| Then he has to deal with me and my minions |
| Tryna get a bimmer, E46 |
| Have you heard «48», motherfucka I’m great |
| Golf Wang prints always cover the sleeves |
| From cuts for the Biebs, 'cause he’s puffin' the trees, please |
| Fuck I look like? |
| Got a new bike tire |
| Never pop like the puss on a butch dyke |
| Think I give a fuck, I do go raw |
| Then I bust in her jaw like (Fuck that disease!) |
| My urethra, hole that I pee from |
| Bigger than the obese neck on Aretha |
| Now turn that snare down |
| I’m back like I’m Rosa Parks fare on the same damn bus |
| Like, «You're going to jail now!» |
| Tamale! |
| Tamale! |
| Tamale! |
| Tamale! |
| Why y’all so salty? |
| Hot tamale is on |
| A can of beans, bitch, I’m on |
| Your boy is bad to the bone |
| How much wood could a woodchuck chuck? |
| If a woodchuck could ever give a fuck? |
| Bitch Suck Dick, motherfuck you and your opinions |
| (Can you kick it?) Yes, I can sir, where the lump is |
| Sicker than the last bar bold-er, I’m a CO |
| Colorado, fuck Michael, bitch, I’m badder than my BO |
| Find me and Lance tryna dance during chemo |
| Before they repossess our strong arm bands and tuxedos |
| Yeah, buddy, this is my jam, na na na na na na na! |
| Golf Wang, Golf Wang, no, fuck you, na na na na na na! |
| Why y’all so salty? |
| Hot tamale is on |
| Can’t agree? |
| Bitch, I’m on |
| Your boy is bad to the bone |
| How many fags can a lightbulb screw? |
| Well if it has a dick, maybe two or six |
| And tell the NRA I’m about to lose my shit |
| Shoot through Wayne LaPierre’s hair with a crucifix |
| How many ladies in the house? |
| How many ladies in the house without a rich nigga, huh? |
| A little Jergens in my palm for the jerkin' |
| Hope my mom don’t catch me, tryna set mood |
| Little Redtube, fuck lotion, I don’t need lube, dry fist suits me |
| Up and down, the friction makes a squeaky sound, the shit’s kind of disgusting |
| Fap time and before I flatline, Clancy chimes in my room and catch me |
| This shit’s so damn embarrassing like… |
| Oh, shit, aw fuck |
| What the fuck! |
| Aw, I’m sorry |
| Is that my shirt? |
| Yeah, sorry, I needed something |
| Clean that shit up, we’re going to the office! |