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Fuck You Bunch
par
Tyler, The Creator
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Paroles
Drop it (Yeah) With some blonde bomb blowers, and their bum bomb goers I'm sober, but my n***as 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 Glocks 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 w****s, headphones blamming the Doors, standing in the doorway Zombies in my lobby, skating, playing dead is the hobby Pocket full of deaf, motherfcker, now rob me Cameras on the canopy, donuts where the bandits be Supreme on the top part, Sharpie full of pop art F, Y, B, gang F, U, C, K But, you can't deny how I feel (F**k You Bunch is here, f**k You Bunch is near) And you can't decide for me (F**k You Bunch is here, f**k You Bunch is near) O.F.M F**k It
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