Princess Sweatshirt lyrics

[Intro: Earl Sweatshirt]
I know everyone has their own f*cking version of this
But no one did it justice, so
Here we go
Ugh

[Verse: Earl Sweatshirt]
Tell your b*tch to stop complaining 'bout her achy tits
Her body is a temple—I don't give a f*ck, I'm atheist
Make me stop, make me, b*tch, she mad because I taped the sh*t
And sent the tape to Ace and Taco—helps 'em f*cking 'bate to it
Master, master, pretty b*tch basher
Black and white b*tch, mixed like she moo and chew grass or somethin'
Sorta like the sh*t, I guess I'd kinda like my b*tch
If she wasn't a dyke motorcyclist with Tyson lisp
Wolf Gang on that "drive without a license" sh*t
On that "take Shake and Meka necks and f*ckin' slice them sh*ts"
Oh, how nice—now, you wanna say you like the sh*t
Because you bruised up, your neck sliced, and I ain't icing sh*t
Show me a rapper my age that say he nice as this
And I'll show you a faggot that say he hate Barbara Streisand flicks
Show me a rapper my age that say he nice as this
And I'll show you a faggot that say he hate Barbara Streisand flicks
Me and Berman swervin' in the jeep
I'm a nice guy in person, but a pervert in the sheets
And I'm magic with the words, murder Merlin over beats
Make the competition kiss the f*ckin' curb, and then they weep
And then they drop