Yonkers Song Lyrics by Tyler, the Creator
Uh, Wolf HaleyGolf WangYeah
I’m a fucking walking paradox, no, I’m notThreesomes with a fucking triceratops, ReptarRapping as I’m mocking deaf rock starsWearing synthetic wigs made of Anwar’s dreadlocksBedrock, harder than a motherfucking FlintstoneMaking crack rocks out of pussy nigga fishbonesThis nigga Jasper tryna get grownAbout five, seven of his bitches in my bedroomSwallow the cinnamon, I’m a scribble this sin and shitWhile Syd is telling me that she’s been getting intimate with men(Syd, shut the fuck up) Here’s the number to my therapist (shit)You tell him all your problems, he’s fucking awesome with listening
Uh, Wolf HaleyUh, Golf WangUh, Wolf HaleyGolf fuckin’ Wang
Jesus called, he said he’s sick of the dissesI told him to quit bitchin’, and this isn’t a fucking hotlineFor a fucking shrink, sheesh, I already got mineAnd he’s not fucking working, I think I’m wasting my damn timeI’m clocking three past six and going postalThis the revenge of the dicks, that’s nine cocks that cock 9’sThis ain’t no V. Tech shit or ColumbineBut after bowling, I went home for some damn Adventure Time(What’d you do?) I slipped myself some pink Xannies (yeah)And danced around the house in all-over print pantiesMy mom’s gone, that fucking broad will never understand meI’m not gay, I just wanna boogie to some Marvin(What you think of Hayley Williams?) Fuck her, Wolf Haley robbing themI’ll crash that fucking airplane that that faggot nigga B.o.B is inAnd stab Bruno Mars in his goddamn esophagusAnd won’t stop until the cops come inI’m an over achiever, so how about I start a team of leadersAnd pick up Stevie Wonder to be the wide receiverGreen paper, gold teeth and pregnant golden retrieversAll I want, fuck money, diamonds and bitches, don’t need ’emBut where the fat ones at? I got something to feed ’emIt’s some cooking books, the black kids never wanted to read ’emSnap back, green ch-ch-chia fucking leavesIt’s been a couple months, and Tina still ain’t perm her fucking weave, damn
Uh, Wolf HaleyUh, Golf WangUh, Wolf HaleyGolf Wang, yeahGoddamn goblinWolf HaleyUh, Golf WangUh, Wolf HaleyGolf Wang, yeah
They say success is the best revengeSo I beat DeShay up with the stack of magazines I’m inOh, not again, another critic writing reportI’m stabbing any blogging faggot hipster with a pitchforkStill suicidal, I amI’m Wolf, Tyler put this fucking knife in my handI’m Wolf, Ace gon’ put that fucking hole in my headAnd I’m Wolf, that was me who shoved a cock in your bitch(What the fuck, man?) Fuck the fame and all the hype, GI just want to know if my father would ever like meBut I don’t give a fuck, so he’s probably just like meA motherfuckin’ goblin(Fuck everything, man) That’s what my conscience saidThen it bunny hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience deadNow the only guidance that I had is splattered on cementActions speak louder than words, let me try this shitDead