Westside Gunn and Tyler, The Creator - The Fly Who Couldn't Fly Straight

Yeah
Yo, Gunn, I'ma, I'ma just, I'ma just fuck around
(Ayo)

I got soul, niggas, ain't gon' hide
Think you that big stepper, fuck around, get your ankles tied
I'm hot, boy, I'm from the depths of Hell where you can't survive
A cold day feel like a good oven when bakin' pies
I'm in that bitch chillin' like I sang about you were mine
You got it bad
You ain't gotta call me or hit my line, just "Brrr, hello?"
The doc said I need tranquilizer
New .40 got so much room
And still inside, man "How you doin'?" (Bitch)
Bunny hop off me when the money stop and check the ring
See the blue moon like some runnin' cops
Check the doors, doors butterfly like when tummy drops
T with that Westside Gunn, you get ya' momma pop

(FLYGOD) All red, lindell specs
Lookin' like seven Jessy Raphael in the stretch Corvette
Peace love, ayo, I'm kosher with the AK (Grr)
My shooter in Louisia'
Yo Dominique, goin' twenty years vacay
I been on my own dick, fuck whatever they say
I ain't calm, legend master my perfection
Killin' shit effortless
God-level flow, love the trench coat Vetements
For fiends supreme Pyrexes for measurements, devilish
Thousand round drum, fun, your head spin
Exorcist, treacherous

If I was on that, niggas'll get slimed out
Like egg yolk, I got some contacts that take your eyes out
I don't play, that boy on timeout, the Cartier crash
I blew the tires out then hopped out
Like Leapfrog David, I'm out my mind now
Got too much paper, went overtime, and I ain't sign out
I'm that boy, if you need proof, press the rewind now
Or go get a MAG, go get lost nigga
And find out, I'm out here

Written by:
Alvin Worthy

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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