Whoa (feat. Tyler, The Creator)

Nah, no, fuck, nah, nah, fuck that

**** think 'cause you fucking made chum

And got all personal

That **** won't go back to that old fucking 2010 shit

About talking 'bout  fucking everything and all that

No, fuck that ****, I got you

Fuck that

Grab mittens who have to spit blizzardous

Actually flick cigarette ash at bitch ****

Harassment, eight nickels of hash

Delay quick and then dash

To Saint Nicholas' pad to taste venison

Still in the business of smacking up little rappers

With rackets you play tennis with

Hated for bank lifting and spraying that hotter wind

In the shade of his maimed innocence

Suitcase scented with haze and filleted sentences

Advanced apathy, smashing the man cameras up

Tan khakis, and antagonist Dan dapper'd up

Vagabond, had it since a Padawan

Rapping hot as fucking cattle brands wearing flannel thongs

Grab a bong, my man, and some food, beer, tag along

Get a nice spanking

New Sears catalog

Send them nettled critics to the bezel stop

Dead and wrong

Get 'em higher than the pitch of metal

Tea kettle songs

Four deep in a Rover Cannon

Riding dirty through a Saugus canyon

**** know that it's the

G O L F dub A N G

G O L F dub A N G

Fifty k for the last check

But the dollar menu still be on deck

**** it's the motherfucking

G O L F dub A N G

G O L F dub A N G

Yeah, the misadventures of a shit talker

Pissed as Rick Ross's fifth sip off his sixth lager

Known to sit and wash the sins off at the pitch alter

Hat never backwards like the print off legit manga

Get it like a blue pill, make ya stick longer

Or a swift fist off your chin from his wrist launcher

Chick, chronic thrift shopper, thick like the Knicks roster

Stormed off and came straight back like pigs posture

Pen?

Nah, probably written with some used syringes

From out the rubbish bin at your local looney clinic

Watching movies in a room full of goons he rented

On the hunt for clues, more food, and some floozy women

Bruising gimmicks with the broom he usually use for Quidditch

Gooey written, scoot 'em to a ditch, chewed and booty scented

Too pretentious to pretend like he could lose with spitting

Steaming tubes of poop and twisted doobies full of euphemisms

Stupid

Thought it up

Jot it quick

Thought out

Toss it right back like a vodka fifth

Spot him on a rocket swapping dollars in for pocket lint

Then lob a wad of chicken at a copper on some flock of shit

Posing **** try to disrespect me

Get a fucking thunder to his neck

Shout out to  Nak, 'cause it's the

G O L F dub A N G

G O L F dub A N G

Looking bummy posted on the block

Like I ain't make a quarter million off of socks

****, 'cause it's the

G O L F dub A N G

G O L F dub A N G

Bitch ****

Wolfgang

(Motherfucker)

Golfwang, ****

Crash wang

Loiter squad

Yeah

Stay off the block ****

You're not welcome

Circa '08

Bitch