Daily Tyler, The Creator Lyrics

Golf Wang M-O-B, mopping n****s ante up Ain't been this fucking sick since brain cancer ate my Granny up

I'm droppin' seeds on these bitches for the love of the sport

Like the flavor of that lemonade That we was sipping on our sushi-ridden dinner date Oh, you think you special now? Other bitches trippin' now

Thank the gods I'm nothing like you

BURN THIS SHIT DOWN, TURN THIS SHIT UP!

But I'm just too blind to see

I hope you find your way home

I'm special, baby

Thank you for the love Thank you for the joy But I don't ever wanna fall in love again

Before I cum, I call your sister When she comes over, I take picture

Got the whips, got the hoes Got the ice, got the clothes

I cut off some friends, where they go?

Said I seemed off, last time that team talked Sick of making n****s cabbage so I took the 'Preme off

This ain't about kinfolk, this our decision with a small window I wanna jump out, but if you wanna stay in the room, I cannot bug out

Now that Mr. Fag is gone, there's no one that can stop me From bagging her, I got these tickets to the Roxy

I ain't tryna keep up, because

Looking bummy, posted on the block Like I ain't make a quarter million off of socks, n****

In the end, she picked him, I hope when they fuckin' She still thinkin' of me 'cause I'm that perfect

Charbroiled n**** on these dark beats Nauseous with the Nazi, but it's normal what the cops see

'Cause you got a big blower, n****, you ain't God