Earl Sweatshirt - Earl
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Earl Lyrics

[Earl Sweatshirt]
I'm a hot and bothered astronaut.
Crashing while jacking off
To buffering vids of Asher Roth
Eattin' apple sauce.
Sent to Earth to poke Catholics in the ass with saws.
And knock blunt ashes into their caskets
And laugh it off.
Twisted sicker than mad cattle
In fact I'm off.
Six different liqours
With a Prince wig plastered on.
Stop screamin', bitch, you shouldn't be that alarmed.
When Big Lips is in the Attic Arms with an addicts arm.
Earl puts the 'ass' in "assassin."
Puts the pieces of decomposing bodies in plastic.
Puts 'em in a pan and mixes it up with scat.
Then gobbles it like fat black bitches and catfish.
It so happens that I'm so haphazardous.
I'll puke a piece and put it on a hook
And f**king cast the shit.
I'm asking that you faggot rap actors take action.
And get a hall pass from this class-act shit.
How the f**k I fit a axe in a satchel?
Slip capsules in the glass, you dizzy rascal.
Party staff baffled, asking where her ass go.
In my room redefining the meaning of black holes.
Before I suck it up. But hurry,
I got nuts to bust, and butts to f**k, and ups to shut, and sluts to f**king uppercut.
It's OF, buttercup, go ahead, f**k with us.
Without a doubt,
A sure-fire way to get your mother f**ked.
Asked for a couple bucks.
Shove a trumpet up her butt.
Play a song, invade her thong.
My dick is having guts for lunch,
As well as supper, then I rummage through her ruptured cunt.
Found the mustard.
f**kin' nosey neighbors notice something's up.
"Whatcha doin'?"
Nothin' much.
Would shout some other stuff.
Gotta f**king bounce.
Guess the bouncers had enough of us.

"f**k you doin'? Eat my dick! I'll eat your ass!"
"f**k T in the ass, man"
"Ay, f**k you!"
"f**k that nigga, man!"

Get 'em off the pavement.
Whipe the dirt and vomit off.
DopeBoyz hatin' but them faggots is a lot of talk.
Cotton soft, pussy.
Them Odd niggas is molotov.
Cocktails f**kin' toss 'em into your apartment, dog.
Wolf Gang, we ain't barkin', nawh.
Try talkin' on a blog with your f**kin' arms cut off.
Put 'em in carpet and watch 'em get auctioned off to Ace.
Tell Shakes daughter we're sorry but poppa's gone, bitch.

[Tyler, the Creator]
Odd Future Wolf Gang, nigga.
f**k them 2DopeBoyz, niggas.
Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All,
Don't give a f**k, nigga.
Stay pop, nigga.
Earl, whaddup nigga?
f**k Steve Harvey.

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Songwriter(s): Thebe Kgositsile, Tyler Okonma
Copyright: Randomblackdude Publishing, Sony/ATV Songs LLC, Golf Wang Steak Sauce
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