text: Me and Slater just hit a curb
  Bunnyhop, zoning out, listening to N.E.R.D 
  Made a couple thousand turds spitting written verbs
  Shit, now I kick it in the burbs
  Me? Im from the slums, niggas who push a ton
  Ton of drums, with foul flow, dirty mouth, like kissing bums
  Mama done made her one, um, a witty son
  With no respect for women, so show me your titties hun 
  You eighteen? Me? Im twenty-somethin
  OK, Im twenty, but Im soon to be twenty-one
  I wild out at shows, break shit, it should be fun
  Venues are like pussy with me, Should he come?
  Ima wax that like the chapstick in my backpack for my black lips
  Then dip to Europe and come back with a stack of cheese
  A stack of cheese for these rats, um, that mac and cheese
  New Preme shit got me feeling flyer than a bag of bees
  Fuck critics Shit, hows your knees?
  Yall on my dick more than my index when I take a pee
  I came up with Rella, aint touch a bag of weed
  Shit was doper than Whitney Houstons needs
  Golf Wang, thats the team to be, ay
  Getting T.U., O.F., indeed
  We was missing Sweatshirt, like Wheres the hooded sleeve?
  Okay, nevermind, we found him, yeah
  Me and Slater just hit a curb
  Bunnyhop, zoning out, listening to N.E.R.D
  Made a couple thousand turds spitting written verbs
  Shit, now I kick it in the burbs
  Guess I win, checks started cashing in
  I stop rapping and start asking where my fucking passion is
  Probably where that faggot went Tyler talking father problems
  Shocking shit, he spit to popping topics in them gossip columns
  I aint ask for this, I did it out of boredom
  Thought that roach was cool, he died and pushed me into stardom
  Now; Yes, PJs, sipping leche
  Chips Ahoy, boy, listening to Cowboy, ay!
  Boy, land in Melbourne and skate to Fitzroy, ay!
  AUS was awes, I enjoyed, boy
  Yall niggas played as a tots toy
  Have a good day as I annoy, oi
  Me and Slater just hit a curb
  Bunnyhop, zoning out, listening to N.E.R.D
  Made a couple thousand turds spitting written verbs
  Shit, now I kick it in the burbs
  Canons with panorama views
  My shoes that seen more vans than Mexicanas
  Or crackers in Alabama
  G-O-to-the-L-F, this OF
  I opened up a store so I dont stress
  But nigga, I mosh in gardens
  Jazz punk shit, playing chords
  Making up shit, pardon my Dolly Partons
  And I keep shartin
  Hoodies with rectangles and different colors
  Niggers think I started kindergarten
  My bitch is on my handle bars
  I, just, wanna, ride, my bike
  Slater, Slater, Slater, Slater
  My bitch is on my handle bars
  Hair blowing in the wind
  Her freckles look like candy bars
  Hair blowing in the wind
  My bitch is on my handle bars
  I, just, wanna, ride, my bike
  Slater, Slater, Slater, Slater
  My bitch is on my handle bars 
  Hair blowing in the wind 
  Her freckles look like candy bars 
  My cool summer never ends 
  My bitch is on my handle bars
  Yeah 
  Slater, Slater, Slater, Slater
  Oh my God, seriously? Mister Cool Guy, haha
  Youre talking to a fucking bike, loser
  Hehe, oh fuck