Seven chords by Tyler, The Creator
Verse 1
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I'd tell him to eat a dick quicker
than Mexicans sprint over borders
E
I give a fuck like a quarter with twenty cent
F
At Hamptons with Fred Hampton relaxing
at Happy Camper
E
It's the fucking financial aid at Hamptons wasn't relaxing,
F
I'm taxing
"Fuck 'em all!" What I'm chanting,
don't complain I'm just ranting
E
Fuck ranking, I'm the best,
F
I'm the champion's chariot
I'm a liar like Carrey in Liar, Liar
I'm dirtier than the sheets in the Marriott,
F#
E
cable guy like Larry
F
Peter Pan in my youth, fucking fairies
Em
I'm using my tooth bait to get
F
that bitches' teeth paste
Fuck it, odd future some Nazis,
Em
black Nazis don't copy
E
Em
We perfect, you sloppy,
F
E
hotter than Saki Takei
Am
Fuck a label on my jacket,
F
E
screw you like a ratchet
F
Screw you like a black teen on Judge
E
Hatchett (bitch)
F
Hang with thrashers and jackers
Em
Drug dealers and crackers,
E
ap students and slackers
F
I'm backwards like
Jermaine Dupri in '93
Escaping from concentration camps with
E
a fucking girl board and a ramp
F
That I ordered from CCS with some diamonds
that's VVS
Am
F
Like I went to Sierra Leone in a homecoming dress,
bitch (yeah)
With some matching pink panties,
lipstick from my granny
Sup on my hat like that
E
motherfucker friendly
F
White, red- headed bitch
reminded me of Annie
She dino like my state of mind,
E
so yeah she understand me (yup)
Fuck You Bunch is here,
F
E
never disrespect my family
F
Em
That's for my little brother, sister,
F
cousin and my auntie
E
Wasted fucking youth? All
you old niggas antiques
We go skate,
F
E
rape sluts and eat donuts from Randy
F
Bitches like Tia Landry watching
Billy and Mandy
Em
E
Motherfuckers wanna be
F
odd but you can't be
E
F
E
Sit the fuck down all you old niggas stand me,
F
faggot (ay)
I guess I got to be a fucking hand- me- down rapper
Verse 2
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From
E
Los Angee area anytime
I'm fucking landing
F
Fuck 2DopeBoyz and NahRight, shout
out to hype track
Them motherfuckers could
F#
never get rid of me
F
Guess I gotta do a fucking
song with Dom Kennedy
Get these fucking hip hop
E
bloggers to start feeling me
F
Because I'm seventeen,
compose my own beats
Lyrically I'm dope enough to ass-
E
F#
fuck the dude who made nicotine
F
Maybe I should buy some hundreds,
wear some fucking skinny jeans
E
And follow in your footsteps like
Em
a motherfucking millipede
E
F
Centipede, make songs about
E
Gucci and ciggaweed
Jerk with my freshmen like it's
some motherfucking little league
F
No, I'm not no fucking hipster, mister
E
No, I'm not no fucking Kid Cudi, all my
F
fucking fans love me
E
Em
F
Collaboration hits for fans screaming fuck buddies,
yo, yo (OF)
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Verse 3
I'm driving in a stolen truck and I'm probably fucking drunk
F
E
Wasted as fuck, can't walk it out,
F
DJ Unk (Unk)
My nose is filled with coke and
my license is revoked
(Shut the fuck up)
Who the fuck told me not to
F
spoke? (Me)
Fuck everybody here,
everybody vanished, I'm managed
E
Hop off my dick and make
a fucking sandwich
F
Everybody listening can
suck my dick in Spanish
F
E
F
E
Fuck you (shit), faggot
F
E
Em
(fuckingbastard)
F
Yeah, um,
Verse 4
Em
F
as you can probably
E
tell from listening to this record
F
E
I was, I was probably angry,
probably on my period
F
E
G
Eb
But um, I didn't mean to offend anyone,
F
alright, I'm lying, OF
Outro 1
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Seven
Tyler, The Creator
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