Slater (feat. Frank Ocean)

Me and Slater just hit a curb

Bunny hop, zoning out, listenin' to N.E.R.D (Star Trak)

Made a couple thousand turds spitting written verbs

Shit, now I kick it in the 'burbs (What?)

Me? I'm from the slums, **** who push a ton

Ton of drums, with foul flow, dirty mouth, like kissin' bums

Mama done made her one, um, a witty son

With no respect for woman, so show me your titties, hun (What?)

You eighteen? Me? I'm twenty somethin'

Ok, I'm twenty, but I'm soon to be twenty one

I wild out at shows, break shit, it should be fun

Venues are like pussy with me, should he come?

I'ma wax that like the chapstick in my backpack for my black lips

Then dip to Europe and come back with a stack of cheese

A stack of cheese for these rats, um, that mac and cheese

New 'Preme shit got me feelin' flyer than a bag of bees

Fuck critics, shit, how's your knees? (How's your dick?)

Y'all on my dick more then my index when I take a pee (Damn)

I came up with "'Rella", ain't touch a bag a weed (Word?)

Shit was doper than Whitney Houston's needs

Golf Wang, that's the team to be, aye

Gettin' T.U., O.F., indeed

We was missing Sweatshirt, like "Where's the hooded sleeve?"

Okay, nevermind, we found him, yeah

Me and Slater just hit a curb

Bunny hop, zoning out, listenin' to N.E.R.D

Made a couple thousand turds spitting written verbs

Shit, now I kick it in the 'burbs

I guess I win, checks started cashing in

I stop rappin' and start askin' where my fuckin' passion is

Probably where that faggot went, Tyler talkin' father problems (Who?)

Shockin' shit, he spit to poppin' topics in them gossip columns (Damn)

I ain't ask for this, I did it out of boredom

I thought that roach was cool, he died and pushed me into stardom

Now, Ye's, PJ's, sippin' leche, Chip's Ahoy, boy, listenin' to "Cowboy"

Aye, boy, land in Melbourne and skate to Fitzroy, aye

AUS was awes', I enjoyed, boy

Y'all **** played as a tot's toy

Have a good day as I annoy, oi

Me and Slater just hit a curb

Bunny hop, zoning out, listenin' to N.E.R.D

Made a couple thousand turds spitting written verbs

Shit, now I kick it in the 'burbs

Cannons with panorama views

My shoes have seen more vans than Mexicans or crackers in Alabama

G-O to the L-F, this O.F.

I opened up a store so I don't stress

But, ****, I mosh in gardens (What?)

Jazz punk shit, playin' chords making up shit, pardon my Dolly Partons

And I keep shartin'

Hoodies with rectangles and different colors

****'s think I started kindergarten

My bitch is on my handle bars

I just wanna ride my bike

Slater, Slater, Slater, Slater

My bitch is on my handle bars

Hair blowin' in the wind

Her freckles look like candy bars

Hair blowin' in the wind

My bitch is on my handle bars

I just wanna ride my bike

Slater, Slater, Slater, Slater

My bitch is on my handle bars

My handle bars

Hair blowin' in the wind

Ooh

Her freckles look like candy bars (Shit)

My cool summer never ends

Cool

My bitch is on my handle bars (Yeah)

Bars, bars

Slater, Slater, Slater, Slater

Oh, my God, seriously? Mister Cool Guy

You're talkin' to a fucking bike, loser

Oh, fuck