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