[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt]
It's the pick of the litter
Mobbin' deep in the woods with six other niggers
Yelling at the trees, like, "Hey, hi, Mister!"
I'm Life-Litter's official stripe-getter
Dig this: I'll get a shovel and strike sisters
And kick 'em when the handle starts digging in my blisters
Sick, cynical cyanide spitter
So when I kick rhymes, my victims die quicker
I'm broke, no cheese, my hoes crackered
(Snort third verse, "Pigions") I'll show you a dope rapper
I'll shit on a n***a with no bladder
Then throw it in his eyes to show him he don't matter
The night creeper in a nice white Jeep-er
With three white divas who snort and like penis
I'm hotter than at least five heaters
In the middle of the summer with a sleeved wife-beater
Purebred degenerate, gentleman
Little Aryan n***a with hairy clit for dinner
It's Wolf Gang, triple six, n***as on that simple shit
I'm on a fucking spree, burning bodies in a rental whip
Wolf Gang rad, no bum-ass shit
So since the fans lagging, now they tryna come back quick
Ask from 'Dera to Fax (They say, "Fuck that shit!")
We half-African swagging—of course we run that shit
[Verse 2: Mike G]
Yeah, I been sick since I was unmixed and mastered
Blastin' Bastard, screaming, "Fuck another rapper!"
O.F. soldier, Buffalo Bill
Don't think I will, but I'm a gunner for the Bills, like Tasker
Ha, I'm the cream of the crop
Officers in the trunk with six other cops
No way that I'll stop, they'll arrest me after
Fix the scene just to put me on screen like an actor
Shit, no need to tell me, I know it's hot—
As weather where them bitches wear bikinis with polka dots
It's overly overkill, because my n***as know a lot
'Bout taping and raping and throwing overboard from a yacht
So now, they probably hate me, but that's why the fuck I'm here
And you should man up, there's no need to be sincere, faggot
Heard that you were queer, so why would you fuck with wolves
That'll leave you on the ground like your rap career? Ha, ugh
So you don't want it—don't start none
We're fuckin' Radical, been Fucking Awesome
Talked a lot of shit so, for words, you're at a loss
Raised enough money just to get someone to kill my boss
Ha, now, that's a fucking "suit for hire"
Hang her higher, light a fire, fuck my former supervisor
I'm the truth, you a liar, blue as Clues, I inspire
Odd Future, motherfucker—I'm your new supplier