[Verse 1: Tyler, The Creator, Earl Sweatshirt]
Uh, addicts arise when I arrive
In this cracked crack fag back slab in disguise
Fat sack of knives in the passenger side
Bitch, reach for the door, get your access denied
I'm not an asshole, I just don't give a fuck a lot
The only time I do is when a bitch is screaming "Tyler, stop!"
The big bad wolf; to me, you're just a minor fox
Red Riding is getting some of this wolfly odder cock
We the niggas you scared of like bad dentists
Flow is anthemic, dirty like it's plants in it
Sick, spit a pandemic, crack and cancer mixed with cannabis
To have a bitch ready to stab a clit with some glass and shit
Your whole gang'll be diminished, bunch got the Brady's in it
Spit sick shit like my saliva got the rabies in it
Fuck rap, I'll be a landlord so I can rape the tenant's daughter
Leave my house with a new stomach, and a baby in it
Face it, me and Ace is sick like malaria carri—
[Interlude: Tyler, The Creator, Earl Sweatshirt]
"Augh! Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, stop!"
"Why did you do that?"
"Say sorry, say sorry!"
"Sorry! I'm sorry as fuck!
"Say sorry!"
"I'm sorry as fuck, ow, ow!"
"Say sorry!"
"I'm sorry! Don't look at this!"
"Say sorry"
"Don't look at this, ow stop!"
"Say sorry!"
"Ow! Stop 'fore you fuck something up!"
"Say, "Sorry!"
"Say, "Sor-"
"Sorry, sorry—Uncle!"
"I fucked this nigga eye up man haha"
[Verse 2: Tyler, The Creator, Earl Sweatshirt]
Face it, me and Ace is sick like malaria carriers
Jim Carrey her to the cemetery to bury her
Listen busters, scarier when I finger fuck her
After I dig her up and then eat her out with a bit of mustard
Took karate, mommy told me "Tyler toughen up"
Rihanna haircut, somebody tell Chris Brown to fuck me up
Had to teach the bitch manners, now I gotta learn her
I'll beat the fuck out your bitch anonymous, Ike Turner
Over, sloppy seconds is my preference
Except for when I'm feeding on the flesh of a pedestrian
Nessy loch monster stop Will he though? Probably not
Silly hoes lick my balls like FIFA lollipops
Get the certain tingle, eating Häagen-Dazs
With some soccer moms where they like to fucking sit and mingle
Watch an Animal Planet document on the Eagles
In the flyest '06 Supreme beanie, Sigel
Your grind's feeble, I'm regal, really, I'm Willy Smith
I am Legend, a snicker dick in a vanilli chick
Come take a stab at it faggot, I pre-ordered your casket
This is known as a classic, yeah that chapped lips crack shit
Hat is always forest so the bitches call me Gump
But compliment her tits and then its off to hump her
Fuck her in a Hummer while I rape her then I put her in a slumber
It's not a figure of speech when I tell you that I dumped her
Known narcissists, sipping on arsenic
Carved carcasses in the garage, don't park in it
Hard as finding retarded kids at Harvard
It's Wolf Gang barking keep you up like car alarms and shit
Over the edge, yeah I hide in a potato sack
'Cause I'm cold as ice like Anasia when she fucking Traq
I'm the type to put you down to bring myself up
So when I rape a bitch I hold her down and get my best nut
The reincarnation of '98 Eminem
60 Crip and Grizzly and some RMK Denim
Pay attention I'm stabbing your women friends, like a gentleman
Then dipping with the fucking pen to go sin again
White girl, you can ask her what the dick be like
At monster madness doing drive by's on a fucking fixie bike
Fuck it, moron, snorting oxycontin, wearing cotton
Oxymoron like buff faggots playing sissy dikes
This the shit that get cripple bitches to hop
Dirty crack pipes lit, bullshit to stop, halt
Boss broke, spouse choke, blouse open
Sly's little shop of horrors, now showing
I hate gays, gangbangers and fucking jerkers
Unless it's gay gangbangers, that's fucking jerkers
Whoa yo, yo.. no homo, I'm not gay, faggot
Odd Future Wolf Gang, Wu-Tang banging in your system
Probably banging in your sister
With my children swimming in her system
Let me say this shit in slow-mo, homo
You don't fucking skate, take off that box logo
[Интро: Рустам Рептилоид]
Что? Реклама прямо в альбоме CREAM SODA? «Как?» — спросите вы. Вот так!
Каждый май, каждого года, каждую первую субботу — приглашаем вас нефигово поработать!
На субботник приезжай — Ярославь вместе с нами подметай!
Субоботник, субоботник, субоботник, субоботник в Диево-Городище!
Приходи — друзей прихвати. Все подробности **** не является публичной офертой **** сука, блядь ****
Tyler,
The Creator—Window (Ft. Domo Genesis, Frank Ocean, Hodgy & Mike G
07:59
[Intro: Dr. TC]
Tyler, we, uh, I, I know it's short notice, but I, I, I brought all your friends here
For some reason, I couldn't get a hold of Taco and Jasper
But, I just brought all your friends here to talk to you
Because they're, they're really worried 'bout you
And I thought it would be better if, they could talk to you
[Verse 1: Domo Genesis]
It was all a dream, I used to read Complex magazines
When I rhyme, I'm tryna get pictures in High Times
Smoke trees and see my dreams hanging in the skyline
Swanton bomb off the bed into a fine dime
In my mind, I'm just tryna smoke the finest
And get high sticking bad heinas in vaginas
I'm the flyest when it come to this, fire when I come to spit
I am getting higher when the lighter comes in front of this
I'm a stoner, yeah, yeah, yeah, you get the picture now
Thirty-thousand feet gon' make it hard for me to simmer down
Another flight, another beat, another city, wow
Thus, another couple bitches crying when I kick 'em out
[Chorus: Domo Genesis]
Where we at? Where we at?
Where we at? Where we at?
We on top of the world, where we at?
We on top of the world, where we at?
[Verse 2: Frank Ocean & Tyler, The Creator]
And five minutes from suicide, I biked it to the park
I walked onto the block, met a guy, burgundy 'Preme snap-back (Wolf)
Hurling himself at cars, and flirting with blonde Cadillacs (Ah)
All was gray, all was gray, Frankie had the blues in fact
Bunch of pale hipster girls, pretty, but they booty flat
Teenage males, couldn't tell I was going through it
Had a wallet full of cream, Amex Green, Bimmer almost black
Parked in front the studio Bastard's recorded at
Earl, Gilbert, Tyler, Hodgy, Domo, Left, Taco, Nakel
Sydney, Lionel, Juan, Michael, Jasper, Hal and Matt
Bet I'm missing several, but I had to bring that pattern back
We live inside a house that says "Fuck 'em" on the welcome mat
Deep inside the ear canals of Bill O'Reilly's daughter, that's where I'm at (Where we at?)
[Chorus: Frank Ocean]
Now, where we at? Where we at?
Ah, Wolf Gang, where we at? (Wolf Gang)
[Verse 3: Hodgy]
Swell motions get promotions, to my whole team
Hell, yeah, I smoke weed 'cause I like to go green
Professor Beats educates, niggas let me proceed
Shine chandelier bright might give you nose bleeds
We at Randy's ordering that 306
Milk and glaze is the greed gold mix
Me, your bitch is comin' along, yeah, she hum to my song
Singing like they were for her, but they were for the blur
No longer, but we were in premature, immature
She's unsure, I'm for sure, blouse and dress and my shirt
On the floor then pick it up, out the door, door
Chased, an imaginary friend, a reverie absorption
Impregnate the dream until it has an abortion
[Chorus: Hodgy]
Where we at? Where we at? Where we–
We on top of the world, on top of the world
Nigga, top of the world
[Verse 4: Mike G]
Everything they say I'd never have, I'm seein'
Now, I bet they see that we ballin' like All-Star Weekend
Always been the most cool, they chase our shade
They say life switches pace when you got shit made
So I'm just tryna get paid, don't you remember the days
When your dreams were the only thing that kept you sane?
And too often they think that they could stop me
Now every show we makin' half a Maserati
And the only thing blocking me is paparazzi
Now it's gold Rolex's if they try to clock me
Everything stay in the box like fighters in hockey
Miss me if you're thinking we slack, work hard
I got the world sayin' every single Friday is black
Took your bitch, you ain't getting her back, 'cause she know
[Chorus: Mike G, Tyler, The Creator]
Where we at, nigga? Where we at, nigga?
Uh, we on top of the world, on top of the world
Where we at, where we at, niggas? Where we at?
Where the fuck we at, man? Y'all niggas don't know me, huh
Where we at?
[Verse 5: Tyler, The Creator]
Down to fucking Earth, huh? Down to fucking Earth, huh?
Fuck everybody, here goes some extra girth, Sir
You fucking critics are making my nerves hurt
Since I'm saying, "Fuck everybody," I guess that I'm a fucking pervert
My window is a book, and I'm a fucking crook
Stealing phones to call home, but the line is off the hook
My mom ain't paid the bill, guess I can't pay it either
I ain't signed a fucking deal yet
But when I do, Clancy and David are taking percentages
That could pay the whole fucking city's mortgage
Hopefully, I make a lot of porridge from tourin' in fucking Oregon
From playing piano organs and hopefully, I can pay the bill
Shit is getting real, people begin to feel
Like I'm changing, but they're complaining, making big fucking deals
About some shit, they bitch and pout
"Can we get backstage, man?" — No, faggot, it's sold out
"Come on, why you holding out? I thought we was boys
Without me, you wouldn't be Tyler, The Creator, you're from the Dirty
I can tell whenever you perform, a leopard can't change its spots"
But I'm a fucking unicorn — "Whatever, man"
[Verse 6: Tyler, The Creator]
Look, you can't stop me, I'm going full Monty
Fuck that, I'm Hitler, everyone's a fucking Nazi
Wolf Gi-di-dang you be roaming where the fox be
And I be where, anybody cares
I try to preach, "Fuck age, live dreams and have fun"
"Here's some 'Give a Fuck' cake" — Oh, maybe I should have some
"Asshole, have none"
How can I wake up on the wrong side of the bed, when I don't even fucking have one?
("Shit, I don't know")
And when I'm on that stage, I feel important
A whole fucking assortment of children that's taking Ritalin
Because the teacher said that the therapist wasn't feeling him
You gotta be fucking kidding me
In school, I was a zero, now I'm every boy's hero, and they fear it
You can hear it when that little fuck is reciting my lyrics, yeah, rebel nigga
Cheer it, dead parents everywhere, it's smelling like teen spirit
Okay, fuck it, Elvis has left the building
[Outro: Tyler The Creator, Hodgy, Tyler, The Creator as Dr. TC]
[Gunshots]
Fuck, take this
Nigga, what the f— (Hodgy)
Nigga, what the fuck are you doin'? You just gon'—
Nig— hold on, hold on, nigga, can— (I'm sorry)
Ayy, nigga, all the shit that we been through, can we just fuckin' talk about this? (I'm sorry)
Nigga, you just gon' shoot me in my mouth—?
[Gunshot]
I'm sorry, fuck, the fuck did I just do? Fuck, ah, shit
Tyler, (Fuck, man) Tyler, give me the gun
(Ah, fuck) Give me the gun (The fuck, man? The fuck?)
It's gonna be alright (Ah fuck man, I'm fucked, I'm so fucked, ah, shit)
It's fine, Tyler, believe me
I don't know why the f— I don't know what the fuck I was thinking, man, I don't f—
It's gonna be okay (Oh, fuck, dude, M— Ah)
I gotta hide the fuckin— I can't hide the fuckin' bodies
I'm here to help
I'm your friend
(Now w—) You were supposed to fuckin' help me
I'm here to help you, Tyler (The fuck?)
Calm down, I'm here to help you (Fuck, fuck)
I'm your friend
You're in your good space with me
We'll figure all of this out
You don't have to worry about a thing
меланхоличный экспериментальный фолк (привет crywank со их 'анти-фолком') проект музыканта из Нэшвилла Пола Кинцига. мелодично, камерно, сентиментально, с шумом кассет и треском винила — всё, что мы любим.
German Error Message — To Carry Alongside
German Error Message — After The Warmth
German Error Message — The Lifting
German Error Message — Haunts
German Error Message — Mend
продолжаем тему инди артистов с двумя с половиной прослушиваниями в год: сентиментальный триптих одного из сайд-проектов слоукор музыканта Лиама МакКея (первая обложка), известного под псевдонимом 'sign crushes motorist'. главные темы альбомов — любовь, привязанность и всё, что с ними связано.
Take Care — Agony
Take Care — Reject
Take Care — Alive
за четыре (???) дня (непостоянного) использования долгожданной музыки в овк выявилось несколько не очень приятных приколоу
1) метаданные треков читаются либо через раз, либо никак. сначала сбросил это на отличие версий id3, ибо считал, что id3 v2.3 читаются, а v2.4 — нет, но всё оказалось гораздо страннее: даже v2.3 теги читаются далеко не у всех треков по непонятной мне причине.
2) ужасная сортировка жанроу в пикере, а точнее её отсутствие. приходится либо юзать сторонние скрипты (спасибо /edgelord), либо искать нужный жанр по таб буква, что не особо спасает.
3) обложки, обложки, сука, обложки! их можно менять ТОЛЬКО у плейлистов, у отдельных треков же — нет.
4) отсутствие какой либо организации треков по альбомам. пихать треки по альбомам > пихать треки по альбомам в плейлисты. такого пункта даже нет в редактировании треков лмао.
5) странное поведение плеера во время воспроизведения треков. опять же, здесь всё работает через раз: иногда плеер переключается на следующий трек по окончании уже проигранного, а иногда держится на последней секунде, пока ты ручками его не переключишь.
музыка в овк вполне юзабельная, и я в какой-то степени удивлён тому, что её наконец добавили, но всё вот это вот выше сильно убивает ux. надеюсь, что баги и недочёты в скором времени пофиксят (мне лень коммитить на гитхабе).Показать больше
мне лень качать чёт новое, поэтому сегодня у нас ОТВААЛ (мурк привет)
известная в узких и не очень кругах российская инди??? idm??? экспериментальная??? крч хуйпойми группа, я сам ещё не разобрался, не бейте
Все дети любят печенье, поэтому этот веб-сайт использует Cookies для того, чтобы идентифицировать вашу сессию и ничего более. Ознакомьтесь с нашей политикой конфиденциальности для получения дополнительной информации.