Rusty ft. Earl Sweatshirt & Domo Genesis de Tyler

I'm saying, you know, like
All I ever told you to do was grow up, don't grow down
You know, like, you know, grow up!
Don't grow down, grow out
You go from being a kid, doing your thing, hanging out with friends

Months later you're world famous

You're a gay rights activist, and you don't even know it

You know what, I don't wanna say it to you no more, Tyler

Fuck you Tyler!

Watch me get this money nigga, tired of being hungry nigga

Nothing funny, sass me while I'm thrashing, I'mma punch a nigga

Never made of plastic, I'm a savage, you look lunch my nigga

Passing all you hating fucking fags we don't discuss, my nigga

We ain't on no jolly shit and we don't pop no mollies, bitch

I'm hockin', spitting got some niggas out here poppin' ollie switch

Buncha novices, Odd Future the squad, its thick

Them young niggas is back and brash, attacking with no common sense

We the last of a dying breed

And we don't give a fuck, so we cannot supply your needs

You stupid niggas who had said our hype is dying, please

My pocket's solid, making profit off the highest tees

Bitch, twerk as I get on the verse, cursin'

Nigga Dom so cool, I refer him in third person

Watch me get this money, I'm up when the bird's chirpin'

Make actions, fuck rehearsing

Nigga, summer, fall, winter-time, 24/365

You niggas gon' give me mine, I don't have plenty time

Flying out at any time, getting money, any grind

You niggas gon' give me mine, you niggas gon' give me mine

In a world where kids my age are popping mollies with leather

Sitting on Tumblr, never outside or enjoying the weather

Can name a sweater, but not a talent or don't know if whether

Or not they got one, tried to change their life for the better

I was a drama club kid, I'd run with a fun dip, my nuts itched

I was defiant, always said, "Fuck shit"

Hated the popular ones, now I'm the popular one

Also hated homes too, til I start coppin' me some

See I don't beez in the trap, nigga, I beez in the b's

And I be gassin' in my buzz like some bees in a Shell

Fucking sick and getting bigger like I sneezed on Adele

And bitches getting touchy-feely like they reading some braille

I bust quick like gun-holders with short tempers, and well

I tried to tell the kids, like fuck it, start being yourself

These fucking rappers got stylist, it's cause they can't think for themselves

See, they don't have an identity, so they needed some help, but

Really, boy? Posers looking silly boy

I'm in that past season 'Preme shit, older than Tity Boi

Not a diss, but same with ice cream, my shit is

Na'kel Smith. Transworld page 64

Poppin' like oil, ollies, and fire flames

I'm harder than DJ Khaled playing the fucking quiet game

The fuck am I saying? Tyler's not even a violent name

I'm 'bout as threatening as stained windbreakers in hurricanes

But he rapes women, and spit wrong, like he hate dentists

God damn menace, 666 and he's not finished

And my shit's missing, he hates women, but loves kittens

See y'all niggas trippin' man

Look at that article that says my subject matter is wrong

Saying I hate gays even though Frank is on 10 of my songs

Look at that Mom who thinks I'm evil, hold that grudge against me

Though I'm the reason that her motherfucking son got to eat

Look at the kid who had the 9 and tried to blow out his mind

But talk is money, I said, "Hi," I guess I bought him some time

Look at the ones in the crowd. That shit is barnacles, huh?

They thought I wasn't fair until I threw a carnival, huh?

But then again, I'm an athiest that just worships Satan,

And it's probably why I'm not getting no fucking album placements

And MTV could suck my dick, and I ain't fuckin' playing

Bruh, they never played it, I just won shit for their fucking ratings

"Analog" fans are getting sick of the rape

All the "Tron Cat" fans are getting sick of the lakes

But what about me, bitch? I'm getting sick of complaints

But I don't hate it when I'm taking daily trips to the bank

Over and over, shit, who gives a fuck what I think?

My fans don't think turning on me, shit, they're almost extinct

Fuck buying studio time. I'mma go purchase a shrink

Record the session and send all you motherfuckers a link, bitch

Nigga, summer, fall, winter-time, 24/365

You niggas gon' give me mine, I don't have plenty time

Flying out at any time, getting money, any grind

You niggas gon' give me mine, you niggas gon' give me mine

This shit just like the nights I look forward to not remembering.

So much for being sober, I hope that you can forgive me

But Momma, I'm close to the edge as possible (Why don't you jump you fucking pussy?)

I'm seeing it's a drop in my occular, jumping like they told me

That the 40's half off, like you know that cliff.

Don't need a therapist to tell him he could float that shit (Fucking faggot).

Or get compared to fucking pair with all the program kids

So maybe a pair of pale bitches for the gonads lick (I'll show you).

Malt liquor filling me up, and all us not giving no fucks and

All of them sensitive chumps in awe when that pistol erupts (Pistol, I got one!).

Dirty one spitting that sumpy raw till his wrists in the cuffs

(Oh, shut the fuck up!).

(Gunshot)

Samuel's here!

Where's Wolf?

Fucking faggot.

Salem was mine, bitch!

Was that good enough, you fucking pussy?