Cool

[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt]

It's the pick of the litter

Mobbin' deep in the woods with six other niggas

Yelling at the trees, like, "Hey, hi, Mister!"

I'm Life-Litter's official stripe-getter

Dig this: I'll get a shovel and strike sisters

And kick 'em when the handle starts digging in my blisters

Sick, cynical cyanide spitter

So when I kick rhymes, my victims die quicker

I'm broke, no cheese, my hoes crackered

(Snort third verse, "Pigions") I'll show you a dope rapper

I'll shit on a nigga with no bladder

Then throw it in his eyes to show him he don't matter

The night creeper in a nice white Jeep-er

With three white divas who snort and like penis

I'm hotter than at least five heaters

In the middle of the summer with a sleeved wife-beater

Purebred degenerate, gentleman

Little Aryan nigga with hairy clit for dinner

It's Wolf Gang, triple six, niggas on that simple shit

I'm on a fucking spree, burning bodies in a rental whip

Wolf Gang rad, no bum-ass shit