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Sam (Is Dead) [feat. Domo Genesis & Tyler, the Creator]
Odd Future
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Odd Future - Sam （Is Dead） This life is a game, if you wanna play Then count all your own mistakes Livin’ it with no delay So fast I’m getting growing pains Father didn’t show me my instincts to take the open lane I go insane All these problems coming with my growing age Blowin’ haze Trying to clear the doubt that’s sitting on my brain I don’t complain But the kid inside me’s feeling so restrained Gotta stay golden Let desire rekindle the flame Searchin’ for the Fountain of Youth, when I’m free in my brain （Bring in the horns） You hear that ****ing brass? （****ing brass, nigger） That’s little boy nigger with the trumpets Marchin’ with the bandwagon Looking for his heart, no sleeve But his hand carry muskets Working in the meadows, Oblivion Mother**** Geppetto He’s a leader, not a puppet Some professors nutty, you’re the Klump’s shit So think before you blink, and "Aye-Aye" make assumptions Niggas! （Go left! Go left! Go left, right, left!） Niggas coming! （Go left! Go left! Go left, right, left!） They want a story, a story I write the shit that I find very amusing Cuz all the other ****in’ stories are boring It’s really awkward to know, that a bunch of kids do adore me It’s like I fathered these ****ers, so you will find me on Maury I’m still a kid in my heart, so I have a problem maturing But it will come from experiences and shit I see touring I’m like a birdman, I’m soaring, really high And I’m really horny, from watching this porn Nope （Bring in the horns） You hear that ****ing brass? （****ing brass, nigger） That’s little boy nigger with the trumpets Marchin’ with the bandwagon Looking for his heart, no sleeve But his hand carry muskets Working in the meadows, Oblivion Mother**** Geppetto He’s a leader, not a puppet Some professors nutty, you’re the Klump’s shit So think before you blink, and "Aye-Aye" make assumptions Niggas! （Go left! Go left! Go left, right, left!） Niggas coming! （Go left! Go left! Go left, right, left!） 5 （Erer-erer-erer br-bring in the） 4 （Erer-erer-erer br-bring in the） 3 （Erer-erer-erer br-bring in the） 2 （Erer-erer-erer） Where’s Tyler? Bottom of the countdown Shit ain’t been the same since I found out Hodgy Beats ghost wrote for Bow-Wow Now I’m the loud, shot, body-styled, foul mouth ****er That your teenage kid, likes to bow down Riding around town in Seattle With the same shotgun that Kurt used to "Click-Clack-Boom-Pow" Still suicidal, but some assume that I’m cool now Cuz I got a ****ing award in my own room now Nope, but I can flip shit like a couch pillow And have my death silent like a loose vow The bandwagon turned into caboose, so So, don’t let that little nigger trumpet lose sound Just let him play
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