Tyler, The Creator - Blow lyrics

If this was a game I already know that I would come out winner And I'm not braggin', I'mma be in her But this b**h really think that I'm 'bout to buy her dinner My steak good, I got a good cut like splinter Juicy and hot such a black b**h temper Now she wanna talk and chop it up like a blender But I don't give a f** and keep her list'in like Schindler She's cute but her forehead's big Got stretch marks like she got four kids Her legs can't close like the four door hinge Bronco That O.J. k**ed the white hos with A wealthy white girl without the facelift Lure her with expensive dinners and a nice bracelet Leave the b**h breathless, what the b**h don't know is that I'm a muthaf**in' sellout and a rapist Baby, you're an angel How 'bout we turn this into a fable of some sort? You already know you're dead Ironic cause your lipstick is red, of course I stuff you in the trunk, drunk Cause all I really wanna do is f** and snort blow If this was a game I would be considered a muthaf**in' legend And I ain't tryna gas you up like Chevron But I'm high as f** b**h, you really need to get on my leverage Now we're in the cabin, in the middle of uhh Tryna find ways to really stuff you in my cabinet Dreamy little ba*tard, I done ran outta luck so now It's time for a bloody foot you little rabbit You're very attractive, and notice that My hat is always the color of cactus And I hang with wolves cause I'm an evil ba*tard Pictures of you on my wall no glue, no tape but just cum plastered Met you at my school, departed at my house Ended at your panties, started at your blouse Pushed you down stairs, I took a nap up on the couch If you wanted a date, don't come Now you gotta make it easy for me don't run You call this sh** kids, well I call these kids cum And you call this sh** rape but I think that rape's fun Wait now it's about eight somethin It's late and you stuck in my base-one Come downstairs with nothin' but a shoe string Yeah b**h this date's done Baby, you're an angel How 'bout we turn this into a fable of some sort? You already know you're dead Ironic cause your lipstick is red, of course I stuff you in the trunk, drunk Cause all I really wanna do is f** and snort blow I like my girls how I like my d**, white Lord, you're so pretty, lyin' in my arms I just got one request, stop breathin'