Sam (Is Dead)

[Intro: Tyler, The Creator] Fuck Steve Harvey [Verse 1: Domo Genesis] This life is a game if you wanna play, counting all your old mistakes Living it with no delay, so fast I'm getting growing pains Father didn't show me my instincts to take the open lane I go insane, all these problems comin' with my growing age Blowing haze, tryna clear the doubt that's sitting on my brain I don't complain but the kid inside me's feeling so restrained Gotta stay gold and let desire rekindle the flame Searching for the Fountain of Youth when I'm freein' my brain [Chorus: Tyler, The Creator] Bring in the horns, you hear that fucking brass? That's little boy nigge‎r with the trumpets Marching with the bandwagon, looking for his heart No sleeve, but his hand carry muskets Lurking in the meadows, oblivion Motherfuck Geppetto, he's a leader, not a puppet Some professors nuttier than Klump's dick So think before you blink and aye-aye make assumptions [Refrain] (Niggas!) Your left, your left, your left, right left (Niggas is coming!) Your left, your left, your left, right left (Niggas!) Your left, your left, your left, right left (Niggas is coming!) Your left, your left, your left, right left [Verse 2: Tyler, The Creator] They want a story, a story I write the shit that I find Very amusing, 'cause all of they fucking stories are boring It's really awkward to know that a bunch of kids do adore me It's like I fathered these fuckers, so you won't find me on Maury I'm still a kid in my heart so I have a problem maturing But it will come from experiences and shit I see touring I'm like a bird when I'm soaring, really high And I'm really horny, from watching this porn, nope, but [Chorus: Tyler, The Creator] Bring in the horns, you hear that fucking brass? That's little boy nigge‎r with the trumpets Marching with the bandwagon, looking for his heart No sleeve, but his hand carry muskets Lurking in the meadows, oblivion Motherfuck Geppetto, he's a leader, not a puppet Some professors nuttier than Klump's dick So think before you blink and aye-aye make assumptions [Refrain] (Niggas!) Your left, your left, (Wolf Gang!) your left, right left (Niggas is coming!) Your left, your left, your left, right left (Niggas!) Your left, your left, your left, right left (Niggas is coming!) Your left, your left, your left, right left [Interlude] 5 (Bring in the hor-) 4 (Bring in the hor-) 3 (Bring in the hor-) 2, and where's Tyler? [Verse 3: Tyler, The Creator] Bottom of the countdown, shit ain't been the same Since I found out Hodgy Beats ghost wrote for Bow Wow Now I’m the loud, shock value style, foul-mouth fucker That your teenage kid likes to bow down Riding around town in Seattle With the same shotgun that Kurt used to click-clack, boom-pow Still suicidal but some assume that I'm cool now 'Cause I got a fucking award and my own room now Nope, but I can flip shit like a couch pillow And have my death silent like a loose vowel The bandwagon turned into caboose, so So, don't let that little nigge‎r trumpet lose sound Just let him play