Tyler, The Creator Lyrics
Got a problem with the golf?
F*ck it, then pick a spot
Like you're eating lunch
And it's brunch
We could bring the beef
And the pots and the pans
F*ck it, we could bring a lot
I just want to know if you can come and suck a dick or not?
Hit her up, pick her up
In the front seat of my two seater vehicle
Hit the crib, grab the cuffs, take pictures of her butt
Where's your mouth open up?
I just want to know if you can come and suck a dick or what
The f*ck am I yapping about?
It don't matter, I'm the one, hun
T is the sun and you're Saturn
Better stop with all of the chit chatter, bitch I'm the tongue I go dumb
Like the mental handicaps in the house, y'all kiss butt
Like a nap on the couch
T the shit, I'm the weird little BLAH
In your mouth you better brush
Like Hova shoulder
Told you boys it never stop
I just want to know if you gon' come and suck a dick or not?
Pink and yellow in the fit, yeah
Ballin now shit I wonder how I got here
Thanks to everyone whoever gave a f*ck, yeah
A lot of niggas don't no because I am yeah
They told me to sit down, shit, I hate chairs
F*ck that instead I stood on their table
Flog Gnaw carnival, f*ck ya state fair
If you f*ck with the golf boys nigga say yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah....
Y'all niggas ain't f*ckin' with T, man
Golf boys y'all ain't f*ckin with me, man
Golf boys sorta like Stevie Wonder
Niggas can't see me
I'm the man nigga don't trip
Unless you got your bags
Gotta say shit nigga
And that's it nig