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[Verse 1: Domo Genesis]
This life is a game, if you wanna play
Then count all your own mistakes
Livinâ it with no delay
So fast Iâm getting growing pains
Father didnât show me my instincts to take the open lane
I go insane
All these problems coming with my growing age
Blowinâ haze
Trying to clear the doubt thatâs sitting on my brain
I donât complain
But the kid inside meâs feeling so restrained
Gotta stay golden
Let desire rekindle the flame
Searchinâ for the Fountain of Youth, when Iâm free in my brain
[Pre-hook]
(Bring in the horns) You hear that f*cking brass?
(F*cking brass, n*gga) Thatâs little boy nigger with the trumpets
Marchinâ with the bandwagon
Looking for his heart, no sleeve
But his hand carry muskets
Working in the meadows, Oblivion
Motherf*ck Geppetto
Heâs a leader, not a puppet
Some professors nutty, youâre the Klumpâs dick
So think before you blink, and Aye-Aye make assumptions
[Hook (x2)]
N*ggaâs!
(Go left! Go left! Go left, right, left!)
N*ggaâs coming!
(Go left! Go left! Go left, right, left!)
[Verse 2: Tyler, The Creator]
They want a story, a story
I write the sh*t that I find very amusing
Cuz all the other f*ckinâ stories are boring
Itâs really awkward to know, that a bunch of kids do adore me
Itâs like I fathered these f*ckers, so you will find me on Maury
Iâm still a kid in my heart, so I have a problem maturing
But it will come from experiences and sh*t I see touring
Iâm like a birdman, Iâm soaring, really high
And Iâm really horny, from watching this porn
[Pre-hook]
(Bring in the horns) You hear that f*cking brass?
(F*cking brass, n*gga) Thatâs little boy nigger with the trumpets
Marchinâ with the bandwagon
Looking for his heart, no sleeve
But his hand carry muskets
Working in the meadows, Oblivion
Motherf*ck Geppetto
Heâs a leader, not a puppet
Some professors nutty, youâre the Klumpâs dick
So think before you blink, and Aye-Aye make assumptions
[Hook (x2)]
N*ggaâs!
(Go left! Go left! Go left, right, left!)
N*ggaâs coming!
(Go left! Go left! Go left, right, left!)
[Bridge]
(Erer-erer-erer br-bring in the)
(Erer-erer-erer br-bring in the)
(Erer-erer-erer br-bring in the)
(Erer-erer-erer)
Whereâs Tyler?
[Verse 3: Tyler, The Creator]
Bottom of the countdown
Sh*t ainât been the same since I found out
Hodgy Beats ghost wrote for Bow-Wow
Now Iâm the loud, shot, body-styled, foul mouth f*cker
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 Iâm cool now
Cuz I got a f*cking award in my own room now
Nope, but I can flip sh*t like a couch pillow
And have my death silent like a loose vow
The bandwagon turned into caboose, so
So, donât let that little nigger trumpet lose sound
Just let him play