Yonkers Lyrics - Tyler, The Creator

Wolf Haley, Golf Wang 

I'm a fucking walking paradox 

No I'm not threesomes with a fucking triceratops 

Reptar, rapping as I'm mocking deaf rock stars 

Wearing synthetic wigs made of Anwar's dreadlocks 

Bedrock, harder than a motherfucking Flintstone 

Making crack rocks outta pussy nigga fishbones 

This nigga Jasper trying to get grown 

About 5'7" of his bitches in my bedroom 

Swallow the cinnamon, I'mma scribble this sin and shit 

While 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 

Wolf Haley, Golf Wang 

Wolf Haley, Golf Wang 

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Jesus called, he said he's sick of the disses 

I told him to quit bitching, this isn't a fucking hotline 

For a fucking shrink, sheesh, I already got mine 

And he's not fucking working, I think I'm wasting my damn time 

I'm clocking three past six and going 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 bowling, I went home for some damn Adventure Time 

(What'd you do?) I slipped myself some pink Xannies 

And danced around the house in all-over print panties 

My mom's gone, that fucking 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 robbing 'em 

I'll crash that fucking airplane that 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 overachiever, so how about I start a team of leaders 

And pick up Stevie Wonder to be the wide receiver? 

Green paper, gold teeth and pregnant golden retrievers 

All I want, fuck money, diamonds and bitches, don't need them 

But where the fat ones at? I got something to feed 'em 

It's some cooking books, the black kids never wanted to read 'em 

Snap back, green ch-ch-chia fucking leaves 

It's been a couple months, and Tina still ain't perm her fucking weave, damn 

Photos 

Wolf Haley, Golf Wang 

Wolf Haley, Golf Wang 

They say success is the best revenge 

So I beat DeShay up with the stack of magazines I'm in 

Oh, not again! Another critic writing report 

I'm stabbing any blogging faggot hipster with a Pitchfork 

Still suicidal I am 

I'm Wolf, Tyler put this fucking knife in my hand 

I'm Wolf, Ace gon' put that fucking hole in my head 

And I'm Wolf, that was me who shoved the cock in your bitch 

(What the fuck, man?) Fuck the fame and all the hype, G 

I just want to know if my father would ever like me 

But I don't give a fuck, so he's probably just like me 

A motherfuckin' Goblin 

(Fuck everything, man) That's what my conscience said 

Then it bunny hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience dead 

Now the only guidance that I had is splattered on cement 

Actions speak louder than words, let me try this shit, dead