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Tyler, The Creator - I Ain't Got Time!

I Ain't Got Time!
Tyler, The Creator
03:26
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Song lyrics

[Shane Powers:]
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.

[Chorus:]
I ain't got time for these n**gas!
Better throw a watch at the boy,
Had my boys in this bitch, lookin' like a seminar,
Who the fuck you talkin' to, mothafucka?
Boy, I ain't got time for these bitches!
Better throw a clock at these hoes,
Have these hoes in this bitch lookin' for a waterhose,
Who the fuck you talkin' to, mothafucka?
Boy, I ain't got time!

[Verse 1:]
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 n**ga, yup, I'm thirsty,
Them little shots that you threw, they ain't hurt me,
I ain't fuck with you bitch ass in the first place.

[Chorus:]
I ain't got time for these n**gas!
Better throw a watch at the boy,
Had my boys in this bitch, lookin' like a seminar,
Who the fuck you talkin' to, mothafucka?
Boy, I ain't got time for these bitches!
Better throw a clock at these hoes,
Have these hoes in this bitch lookin' for a waterhose,
Who the fuck you talkin' to, mothafucka?
Boy, I ain't got time!

[Verse 2:]
Nat Turner would be so proud of me
'Cause all these mothafuckas got they style from me,
I bet they all lookin' from the crowd at me,
And if I ask them, they would bow at me.
But you're a house n**ga, so you don't know
How that shit go, with my big lips and my big nose,
And my big dick, and my short hair,
'Cause you already know how slow my shit grow.

Hey!
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock.

[Verse 3:]
Been the man with a pickle plan, n**gas know the dill,
When I sell the carnival, I bet I get a 100 mil,
Next line will have 'em like "woah",
I've been kissin' white boys since 2004.
1 me, 2 feet, 3 mmms,
4, 5, 6 years ago sucked,
7 figure conversations with Converse finalized
'Cause Vans fucked up.
I'ma read commas, you gon' leave comments,
Sayin' what I shoulda did, but you ain't did nada.
You ain't important,
I'ma keep sportin',
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 chess board.
Tick-tock, tick, tock.
And at them Golf boys?
That's my mothafuckin' set, boy!
Hard pill to swallow like some thick soda,
Walk weird 'cause my pockets look like thick Yoda,
With a Skywalker ridin' 'round solar,
Anakin skin Sprite, and my tint cola.
I'm getting' neck from a broad like some big shoulders,
Till I bust like that 9 in ya heat holster,
Everything I say is hot, bitch, I speak toaster,
And I break orthodox like I eat kosher,
Shout out to shhh, they gave a big loaf of
Green bread, got me chillin' 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!

[Verse 4:]
Better talk shit
'Cause I'm either in my Cons or my Golf shit.
Pants got a lil' flood, n**ga, pipe down,
I'm Lil Boosie, Lil Boosie, way I wipe down.
Boy, I ain't got time!
Yeah, right now
'Cause n**gas dyin' every day and I ain't light brown,
And i-D ain't wanna give a n**ga no post,
So I went and did a 12-page spread in Vogue.
N**ga, I ain't got time!

Listen, man, I'm that boy,
All you little n**gas 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,
Bitch!
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock.
Fuck... Hello?

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