Yonkers - Tyler The Creator lyrics

I'm a f-ckin' walkin' paradox, no I'm not Threesomes with a f**in' triceratops, reptar Rappin' as I'm mockin' deaf rock stars Wearin' synthetic wigs made of anwar's dreadlocks Bedrock, harder than a muthaf-ckin' flintstone Makin' crack rocks outta pissy n-gga fishbone This n-gga jasper tryna get grown About five-seven of his b**hes in my bedroom Swallow the cinnamon, I'mma scribble this sin and sh** While syd is tellin' me that she's been gettin' intimate with men Syd, shut the f** up Here's the number to my therapist Tell him all your problems, he's f-ckin' awesome with listenin' Wolf haley, golf wang Jesus called, he said he's sick of the disses I told him to quit b**hin', this isn't a f-ckin' hotline For a f-ckin' shrink, sheesh I already got mine And he's not f-ckin' 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 co*ks that c*** nines This ain't no v tech sh** 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 f**in' broad will never understand me I'm not gay, I just wanna boogie to some marvin (What you think of hayley williams?) F-ck her, wolf haley robbin' 'em I'll crash that f-ckin' airplane at that f*ggot n-gga 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 achiever, 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, f-ck money, diamonds and b**hes, 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 f-ckin' leaves It's been a couple months, and tina still ain't permed her f**in' weave, damn