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Lyric
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Tamale, Tamale, Tamale, Tamale, Tamale, Tamale
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They
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say
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I've
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calmed
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down
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since
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the
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last
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album,
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well,
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lick
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my
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dick
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how
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does
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that
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sound?
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um
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smell
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my
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gooch,
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you
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could
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kiss
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my
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buns,
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and
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I
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don't
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give
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a
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shit,
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bend
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my
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rectum
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somebody
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said
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bands
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make
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her
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dance,
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think
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you're
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getting
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cash?
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no
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bitch,
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you're
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dumb
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the
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only
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thing
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that
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you're
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gonna
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get
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is
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this
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dick,
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wait
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turn
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this
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up,
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bitch
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this
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my
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jam
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(where
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the
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drums
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at?)
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here
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take
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a
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goddamn
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picture
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and
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tell
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Spike Lee
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he's
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a
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goddamn
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nigger
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while
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you're
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at
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it
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pass
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the
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Lotion
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and
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fapping
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and
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Xbox LIve
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that
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fun
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before
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I
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cum,
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I
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call
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your
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sister,
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when
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she
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comes
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over,
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I
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take
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picture
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instantly
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put
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it
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on
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instagram
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and
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suplex
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her
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off
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a
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building
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if
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I
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get
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banned
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(I'm
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just
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fucking
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around)
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Tamale, Tamale, Tamale, Tamale
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Why
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y'all
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so
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salty?
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hot
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Tamale
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is
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on
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a
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can
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of
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beans,
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bitch
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I'm
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on
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your
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boy
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is
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bad
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to
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the
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bone
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Bring
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back
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the
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horns
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that
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was
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played
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in
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the
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beginning
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and
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tell
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Tony Parker
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that
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I
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found
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his
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vision,
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and
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if
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he's
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tripping
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off
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my
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sneak
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dissing,
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then
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he
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has
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to
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deal
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with
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me
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and
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my
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minions
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tryna
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get
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a
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bimmer,
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E46
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have
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you
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heard
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48?
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motherfucker
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I'm
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great
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(yeah)
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Golf Wang
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prints
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always
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cover
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the
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sleeves
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from
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cuts
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from
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the
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Biebs,
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'cause
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he's
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puffin'
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the
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trees,
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please
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fuck
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I
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look
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like?
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got
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a
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new
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bike
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tire
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never
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pop
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like
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the
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pussy
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on
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a
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butch
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dyke
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think
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I
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give
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a
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fuck?
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I
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do,
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I
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go
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balls,
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then
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I
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bust
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in
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her
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jaw,
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like
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(fuck
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that
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disease)
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my
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urethra,
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hole
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that
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I
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pee
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from,
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bigger
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than
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the
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obese
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neck
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on
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Aretha
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Now
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turn
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that
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snare
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down
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I'm
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back
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like
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I'm
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Rosa Parks
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fare
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on
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the
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same
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damn
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bus,
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like
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"you're
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going
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to
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jail
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now"
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Tamale, Tamale, Tamale, Tamale
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Why
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y'all
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so
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salty?
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hot
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Tamale
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is
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on
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a
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can
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of
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beans,
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bitch
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I'm
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on
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your
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boy
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is
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bad
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to
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the
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bone
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How
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much
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wood
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could
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a
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woodchuck
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chuck,
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if
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a
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woodchuck
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could
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ever
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give
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a
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fuck?
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bitch,
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suck
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dick
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motherfuck
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you
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and
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your
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opinions
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(can
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you
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kick
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it?)
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Yes
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I
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can,
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Sir,
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where
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the
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lump
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is
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sicker
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than
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the
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last
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bar
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bold-er,
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I'm
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a
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CO
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Colorado,
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fuck
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Michael,
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bitch
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I'm
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badder
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than
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my
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BO
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find
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me
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and
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Lance
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tryna
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dance
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during
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chemo
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before
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they
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repossess
|
|
our
|
|
strong
|
|
arm
|
|
bands
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and
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tuxedos
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Yeah,
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Buddy,
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this
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is
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my
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jam
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na, na, na, na, na, na, na
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Golf Wang,
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Golf Wang,
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no,
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fuck
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you,
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na, na, na, na, na, na, na
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Why
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y'all
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so
|
|
salty?
|
|
hot
|
|
Tamale
|
|
is
|
|
on
|
|
a
|
|
can
|
|
of
|
|
beans,
|
|
bitch
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|
I'm
|
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on
|
|
your
|
|
boy
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is
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bad
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to
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the
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bone
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How
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many
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fags
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can
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a
|
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lightbulb
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screw?
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Well,
|
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if
|
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it
|
|
has
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a
|
|
dick,
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maybe
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|
two
|
|
or
|
|
six
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and
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tell
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the
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NRA
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I'm
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'bout
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|
to
|
|
lose
|
|
my
|
|
shit
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|
and
|
|
shoot
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|
through
|
|
Wayne LaPierre's
|
|
hair
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|
with
|
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a
|
|
crucifix
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|
how
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many
|
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ladies
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in
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the
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|
house?
|
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how
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many
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ladies
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in
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the
|
|
house
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|
without
|
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a
|
|
rich
|
|
nigga,
|
|
huh?
|
|
a
|
|
little
|
|
jergens
|
|
in
|
|
my
|
|
palm
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|
for
|
|
the
|
|
jerkin'
|
|
hope
|
|
my
|
|
mom
|
|
don't
|
|
catch
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|
me
|
|
tryna
|
|
set
|
|
mood,
|
|
little
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|
red
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|
tube
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|