Stapleton

[verse 1]

It's earl, mr. early bird, gets them girls with curvy curves

Skate mental, truck smack a faggot in his shirley temple

Your rhymes rentals, give 'em back to they owners

At the end of the bar, i spit with the permanents

Learn i'm a curb stomping person

Like third strike verdict dropping jaw dropping verses

This bigger lips in person, nigga spits some burn so urn the shit

Furnish the flow until my pockets green, kermit's dick

The miss piggies with a string in they ass

I control them like your eyes when i'm tinking a glass

So if you thinking about dissing stop thinking it fast

Cause my wolves ten deep and they knuckles is brass, ho

The miss piggies with a string in they ass

I control them like your eyes when i'm tinking a glass

So if you thinking about this then stop thinking it fast

Cause my wolves ten deep and they knuckles is brass, bitch

[hook]

Tell your boyfriend that's a bat and this a migraine

Don't ask why my jeans splattered with these white stains

Wait, where you going, what you doing tonight?

Just want to know what you doing, come back

Tell your boyfriend that's a bat and this a migraine

Don't ask why my jeans splattered with these white stains

Where you going, what you doing tonight?

Stop running, where you going, what you doing?

[verse 2]

It's earl, mr. lateshift, rapist in training

Who edge about as straight as some clay closet gay dick

Ray say hey earl's a real charming racist

Your birthday day, have some kk cake bitch

Habit have it, grab it fast and attack it, faggot

I'm above average like i'm rapping in the attic, yeah

I'm crouched in the basement shouting "couch" is the greatest hit

Dirty as a anus is, fans stand in rain for this

They even stand in sleet season until they fucking feet bleeding

Hail and fucking snow, in hell with fucking coats

Probably wear more layers, there's only one sweatshirt

He make them bow down until they mothafucking necks hurt

Fans probably stand in sleet season until they fucking feet bleeding

Hail and fucking snow, in hell with fucking coats

Probably wear more layers, there's only one sweatshirt

He make them bow down 'til they mothafucking necks hurt

[hook]

[verse 3]

Mr. deerskin moccasins is on the fucking stalk again

Following and stalking all them larchmont soccer chicks

Chopping limbs, gnawing legs, through they fuckin' stockings

Him his grandfather sweatshirt, clockin' all them cardigans

Product of popped rubbers and pops that did not love us

So when i leave home keep my heart on the top cupboard

So i will not stutter when i'm shoutin' fuck you, son

Wolf gang 'bout it, we ain't waitin' 'til the moon come

Woo son, the moonshine got feelin' loose

As the puss of a whore who's used to abuse

My screws pretty loose mind fucked like the hair-doos

Of doo-doo mamas, dude i will bear jew you

You unripe fruit dudes is crews to chew through

My niggas wash 'em down with a fat carton of yoo-hoo

Odd future wolf gang kill them all fuck 'em all

No lube, it's the crew to get use to, faggot