Paroles de la chanson Inglorious par Tyler, the Creator

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Paroles de la chanson Inglorious par Tyler, the Creator

[Dr. TC]
Well, Tyler...
Uh, it's about that time
I mean you're a good kid, just misguided
Okay, so is there anything else you wanna say
Before we end this?

My father died the day I came out of my mother's hole
And left a burden on my soul, until I was old enough
To understand that the fuckin' faggot didn't like me much
He loved my moms enough to bust a nut and then he Shake Junt
Bring your pops to school day, for twelve years, I cheated
Told the fuckin' faculty that he was at a meetin' and
Bring that dude to life day, he wasn't at the meetin'
Made a U-turn on the way there like; "the fuck am I thinkin'"
Birthdays, Christmas, my only fuckin' wishlist
Was CDs (and a father) and a new fitted
Instead I got some CDs, inhaler, some Ritalin, some white socks
I was hyper, 'cause I didn't get attention from my real pops
Cops say I'm supposed to be in jail, but they don't know it's me
Statistics say that niggas with no father ain't gon' be shit (nigga)
Well I guess I had one because nigga I'm it
You smell that? (Yeah!) That's the odor of success, bitch

I know I'm not the only bastard in America
So I'm gon' to need some help, on this next part
Scream it with me, niggas

Fuck you (I'm good)
Fuck you (I graduated)
Without you (I'm good)
Fuck you (I'm good)
Nigga, eighteen (I'm good)
Fuck you (I'm good)
Got a car, nigga (fuck you)
Eat a dick, nigga, bitch

Father's Day was the worst when it came to gifts
'Cause I ain't know for who or what the fuck to get
Now my momma mentioned the day before what she would like
'Cause she's playin' both roles, like her occupation was dyke, fuckin' right
I ain't look up to Obama and Nixon
I look up to the Hugos and Dixons
The niggas in the vision rap about the shit they cookin' in the kitchen
Pushin' keys, like them niggas that were bangin' on the keys
My father never seen me, the nigga probably Stevie
He bought me a hoodie, a couple albums
Like that's gon' make up for the years and the tears
And the money that my momma spent on rent and clothes
You fuckin' dipped out, I swear to God, if I see you
I'm a get out the M-16 and let a fuckin' clip out (RRRAAA!)
'Cause in 16 years, you let your kid doubt the existence, none
I don't give a fuck either, like father, like son, I'm done

[ Hodgy Beats]
He ain't give a fuck about me
He ain't give a fuck about you
He ain't give a fuck about we
So what the fuck we gon' do?

Fuck you (I'm good)
Fuck you (I graduated)
Without you (I'm good)
Fuck you (I'm good)
Nigga, eighteen (I'm good)
Fuck you (I'm good)
Got a car, nigga (fuck you)
Eat a dick, nigga, bitch

The cold is nice, and I'm not talkin' 'bout the weather
The skin is thick, no need for leather, your father called
He said you're better without him, I'm not the only fuck
Without them, how to tie a tie and how to get your suit hemmed up
Take it to the shop, then what?
Fuck it, momma's proud of her asthmatic, thin fuck
Luck on my brim, Supreme keeps me warm
When the cold blood swarms in my veins, fuck rain in the summer
The bummer is the fact that I'm black
And I hang with white Neos whose marrow stays frio
Now this counselor is tryna tell me that I'm emo
She don't give a fuck
D-low where's the trigger? I'll let this bullet play hero

[ Tyler]
Nah, fuck that
Fuck that
I ain't deserve this
I'm over it
BANG!

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