Letra de I Ain’t Got Time! - Tyler, The Creator

(Feat. The Creator)

Right now we got some new music only here on Golf Radio!

(God, I love this sample)

We're going to dance

And exercise

And have some fun

I ain't got time for these niggas

Better throw a watch at the boy

Had my boys in this bitch, looking like a seminar

Who the fuck you talking to, motherfucker?

Boy, I ain't got time for these bitches

Better throw a clock at these hoes

Have these hoes in this bitch looking for a water hose

Who the fuck you talking to, motherfucker?

Boy, I ain't got time

Boy, I need a Kleenex

How I got this far? Boy, I can't believe it

That I got this car, so I take the scenic

Passenger a white boy, look like River Phoenix

First, happy birthday!

You bitch-ass nigga, yup, I'm thirsty

Them little shots that you threw, they ain't hurt me

I ain't fuck with your bitch-ass in the first place

I ain't got time for these niggas

Better throw a watch at the boy

Had my boys in this bitch, looking like a seminar

Who the fuck you talking to, motherfucker?

Boy, I ain't got time for these bitches

Better throw a clock at these hoes

Have these hoes in this bitch looking for a water hose

Who the fuck you talking to, motherfucker?

Boy, I ain't got time

Nat Turner would be so proud of me

'Cause all these motherfuckers got they style from me

I bet they all looking from the crowd at me

And if I ask them, they would bow at me

But you're a house nigga, so you don't know

How that shit go, with my big lips and my big nose

And my big dick and my short hurr

'Cause you already know how slow my shit grow

(Hey)

Tick, tock

Tick, tock (Uh)

Tick, tock

Tick, tock (Yeah)

Tick, tock

Tick, tock (Ayo)

Tick, tock

Tick, tock

Been the man with a pickle plan, niggas know the dill

When I sell the carnival, I bet I get a 100 mil' (Hey)

Next line will have 'em like "woah"

I've been kissing white boys since 2004

One me, two feet, three M's

Four, five, six years ago sucked

Seven figure conversations with Converse finalized

'Cause Vans fucked up

I'ma read commas, you gon' leave comments

Saying what I shoulda did, but you ain't did nada

You ain't important

I'ma keep sporting

All smiles over here

Shout out to The Garden

(Tick-tock)

(And that's a fact boy!)

And I just handle all my business like a chessboard

(Tick tock, tick, tock)

And at them Golf boys? That's my motherfucking set, boy

Hard pill to swallow like some thick soda

Walk weird 'cause my pockets look like thick Yoda

With a Skywalker, riding 'round solar

Anakin skin Sprite, and my tint cola

Getting neck from a broad like some big shoulders

'Til I bust like that 9 in ya heat holster

Everything I say is hot, bitch, I speak toaster

And the bread orthodox like I eat kosher

Shout out to (Shhh) they gave a big loaf of

Green bread, got me chilling like a clean sofa

What's that thick odor?

Young Millie T

A young, focused black boy, oh, silly me

(I ain't got time!)

Better talk shit

'Cause I'm either in my Cons or my Golf shit

Pants got a lil flood, nigga, pipe down

I'm Lil Boosie, Lil Boosie, way I wipe down

(Boy, I ain't got time!) Yeah, right now

'Cause niggas dying every day and I ain't light brown

And i-D ain't wanna give a nigga no post

So I went and did a 12-page spread in Vogue

(Nigga I ain't got time!)

Listen, man, I'm that boy

All you lil' niggas clones

Boy, I fill that void

You better kill that noise

Turn around and remap route

When they see that boy with them big ears and that gap tooth

Tick, tock

Bitch

Tick, tock

Tick, tock

Cause I ain't got ti-

Sugar

Oh!

You're so sweet

Fuck?

They should call you sugar

'Cause you're so s-

Hello?

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