[Intro]
Drop it
(Yeah)

[Verse: Tyler, the Creator]
With some blonde bomb blowers, and their bum bomb goers
I'm sober, but my niggas bombin' on that lawn mower
I'm snortin' white sides, prolly in some white socks
Screamin' "Thug Life", Pac gotta find his own box
Toy box, I'm in, playing with my toy blocks
Conversate with Jason, my imaginary commissary
Gold chain, rocks in it, not somehow, I'm rocking it
Even pop-locking it, keys open doors
Banging out the whores, headphones blamming the
Doors, standing in the doorway
Zombies in my lobby, skating, playing dead is the hobby
Pocket full of deaf, motherfucker, now rob me
Cameras on the canopy, donuts where the bandits be
Supreme on the top part, Sharpie for the pop art
F, Y, B, gang
F, U, C, K

[Hook: Beth Gibbons of Portishead & (Tyler, The Creator)]
But you (You!) can't deny (-Ny!) how I feel (Feel!)
(Fuck You Bunch is here, Fuck You Bunch is near)
And you (You!) can't decide (-Cide!) for me
(Fuck You Bunch is here, Fuck You Bunch is near)

[Outro]
O.F.M
Fuck It