"Leather Head" lyrics - ODD FUTURE

ODD FUTURE
"Leather Head"
feat. Tyler, The Creator

(Tyler, the Creator)
Wolf fuckin' Haley
I'm not fuckin' crazy, fuckin' crazy
Wolf Gang, Wolf Gang
Okay, it's my turn to rap (do that!)

Fuckin' modern day Ian Curtis I oughta been
The motherfuckin (Bull) s was hotter than a Dennis (Rod-a-Man)
All the men and girls was tied up inside a cottage and
Raquel, Riley, Brandon, Alexis fuckin' Milan and them
House's egg yolkin, muh'fuckin' ain't jokin
Throats chokin hulkin that muh'fuckers like I'm Hulk Hogan
Halloween at Neverland Ranch? I'm Macaulay Culkin
Fuckin' Superbad swag when I murder Seth Rogen
I'm sick, this asthma, takin' six Robitussin
I'm fuckin' this game up; no Trojans for the semen
On the boat you better vote and fuckin' pray
Even though the Pope is bogus
Even though I'm hyped the dopest, 2Dope don't wanna post us
Copy all we are off how we all are rockin'
And they kosher but don't trip my pockets got a loaf of that
I'll show you how you're 'sposed to rap
Yeah, for the blonde bitches
They say they enjoy the vision
I'm the man now the boys missin' from the decision
My television is eclectic
How can he move on Waka Flocka back to Joy Division?
Yeah, I said that I received info now the surgeon's missing
Probably 'cause I dressed up as a nurse
Went it to his office, gave him his cup of coffee
Aw, now he is feelin' nauseous? Buzzin me to walk in
Takin' all the doctor calls, ask her to prescribe
A bunch of shit that he can munch and such
He asked what was in the coffee, I just coughed a blush
What'chu say? (Hey! Wait, you'rer not! WHAT THE FUCK!)
Hit him with the uppercut then cut him up
With the roughest tools, and I found out the Wolves had
Aten some sections of ugly sluts
Fuck! Now I got blood on my new fuckin' sneakers and stuff
Fuck it, storage room where this doctor's gettin' his body stuffed
By this fuckin' awesome thrashin African that's marvelous
With green Supreme hats, smoker's head, it was a pot of luck
I love Taylor Swift, date rape sirloin
In a wife beater with a Chris Brown iron on
Bitch, I'm tighter than a stogie and a lighter
The cuts that's on Taylor or the Braces when I bite her
After that I will retain her from leavin' gaps and gashes
When I brush her with the rubber bands leavin' gummy rashes
Laughin' gas, pass her out, fool beat this
'Cause I'll do to her what my father didn't really give
And that's not hard to figure out but just in case it is
I'll make it really hard to get it out, if you catch my drift
(Wolf, Gang, fuck!)