Oooh

[Verse 1: Hodgy] Prometh' flow for the slow sippers And if you on your paper chasing, I’ma roll with ya About an onion, it odors a bag of Funyuns Bitches packaging dozens, fuck ‘em until they malfunction I laugh my ass off, taking shots like a gunman I don’t hunt game, motherfucker, I hunt men Take ‘em to the back of my pick-up truck to rot them Kill a fuckin’ superhero, I watch the Watchmen I’m a super-negro, my watch the rocks in My Glock that’s cocked, loaded, and ready to lock in Who’s sending niggas to the dirt? Ostriches Captain holding them captive fucking hostages Create carnage from cartridges, eating the heart of pigs To murder, homicide’s a part to live with that Grab your Teflon, ammunition, and your gat Unless you wanna get shitted on like porn scat, oh! [Hook: Pusha T] Oooh, you ain’t sayin’ nada Guns drawn, niggas scream opera .38 snub or the chopper Middle finger goes to the coppers You better hope the Lord is your doctor Like, oooh, you ain’t sayin’ nada Guns drawn, niggas scream, opera .38 snub or the chopper Middle finger goes to the coppers You better hope the Lord is your doctor Like, oooh [Verse 2: Pusha T and (Liva Don)] Hey Hodgy, hey Tyler, don’t mind us (We kill ‘em all, 50 shots, fuck kindness In all black Versace dressed in the finest) We sell it all, even the drugs are designers Gangsta bitches, Red Monkeys for the ecstasy (Fuck it, take ‘em all, overdose the recipe Let them hoes show they true colors-) crew lovers Passed around like a cold (It’s a zoo of us) Two brothers, add two others just the news of it Make the net crash, the ultimate “Who done it?” (And who knew Sarah Palin with the sniff type daughter knocked up But she was knocking down Glen Rice) Been nice since the Wolf Gang was baby pups (Golf Wang full grown, now they crazy fucks) Add two dope boys known for taping up (Kick in the door, now the world ain’t safe enough) [Hook: Pusha T] Oooh, you ain’t sayin’ nada Guns drawn, niggas scream opera .38 snub or the chopper Middle finger goes to the coppers You better hope the Lord is your doctor Like, oooh, you ain’t sayin’ nada Guns drawn, niggas scream, opera .38 snub or the chopper Middle finger goes to the coppers You better hope the Lord is your doctor Like, oooh [Verse 3: Tyler the Creator] Spit bars, this hard, teen sixteen bars I’m fucking the game when its vagina got my dick scarred Um, sure it’s ‘Preme button up floral Stack of money, dark shades, looking like a fucking tourist Or it’s the Tourettes that my fucking neck have I’m like a average nigge‎r in the 20’s of the 18’s And I’m not even 20, dropped a classic at my 18 A crazy motherfucker, maybe I should be my stepdad (Come here son) The wolves finally reconcile At Interscope office with a bunch of fucking pedophiles While mouth watering, this shit is sick and fucking vile Trying to fuck my destiny, they couldn’t find another child Child