Текст песни Tyler, the Creator - Yonkers

Текст:

[Verse 1] I'm a fuckin' walkin' paradox, no I'm not Threesomes with a fuckin' triceratops, Reptar Rappin' as I'm mockin' deaf rock stars Wearin' synthetic wigs made of Anwar's dreadlocks Bedrock, harder than a muthafuckin' Flintstone Makin' crack rocks outta pissy nigga fishbone This nigga Jasper tryna get grown About five-seven of his bitches in my bedroom Swallow the cinnamon, I'mma scribble this sin and shit While Syd is tellin' me that she's been gettin' intimate with men (Syd, shut the fuck up) Here's the number to my therapist Tell him all your problems, he's fuckin' awesome with listenin' Wolf Haley, Golf Wang [Verse 2] Jesus called, he said he's sick of the disses I told him to quit bitchin', this isn't a fuckin' hotline For a fuckin' shrink, sheesh I already got mine And he's not fuckin' workin', I think I'm wastin' my damn time I'm clockin' three past six and goin' postal This the revenge of the dicks, that's nine cocks that cock nines This ain't no V Tech shit or Columbine But after bowlin', I went home to some damn Adventure Time (What'd you do?) I slipped myself some pink Xanies And danced around the house in all-over print panties My mom's gone, that fuckin' broad will never understand me I'm not gay, I just wanna boogie to some Marvin (What you think of Hayley Williams?) Fuck her, Wolf Haley robbin' 'em I crash that fuckin' airplane that faggot nigga B.o.B is in And stab Bruno Mars in his goddamn esophagus And won't stop until the cops come in I'm an over acheiver, so how 'bout I start a team of leaders And pick up Stevie Wonder to be the wide receiver Green paper, gold teeth and pregnant gold retrievers All I want, fuck money, diamonds and bitches, don't need 'em But where the fat ones at, I got somethin' to feed 'em In some cookin' books the black kids never wanted to read 'em Snap back, green ch-ch-chia fuckin' leaves It's been a couple months, and Tina still ain't permed her fuckin' weave, damn Wolf Haley, Golf Wang Goddamn Goblin

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