[Part I: "2SEATER"]

[Chorus]
We can speed in my two-seater
Girl, I got a two-seater
Speed in my two-seater
In my two-seater

[Verse 1]
About a hundred on Fax and it's easy to stop (Yeah)
You see, my shit isn't stock
I used to piss in a pot and now I piss on the walls
But since I pissed off a cop, a couple tickets I have copped
But I can pay for them all
And by the model of my vehicle you know that I ball
E92, but '91 the year that Tyler was spawned
And if I crash, I'm owing wheels like I'm a Vaughn or a Vince, Tiptronic is stick
Or automatic, you pick, shit is static as shit (Yeah)
Sure my shit is AM, might get that X6 end
Don't follow exit him, might take a back street hidden
House got all sports cars like his garage is gym
Two sapphires on him neck next his precious gems
No AMG, it's M, boy, I will eat him Benz
New engine, you got that old shit with those deep rims
You got a warranty, don't care if you scratching rims again

[Chorus]
We can speed in my two-seater
Girl, I got a two-seater
Speed in my two-seater
In my two-seater

[Bridge]
Sit in my passenger seat
You tell me I got too much speed
And I should slow, I should slow down
But I can't, 'cause you driving me wild
Girl, I get a rush when we're speeding in my car
And sometimes, it's too much
And you can feel the beat in my heart
Girl, I get a rush when we're speeding in my car
And sometimes, it's too much

[Verse 2]
Yeah
I know some dudes that would find you that carry rugers and shottas
And fucking shoot at your Honda, then fucking zoom out in Mazdas
Them GOLF boys is bad for you like the food from McDonald's
Boy, I'm a king and I ain't lyin', boy, hakuna matata
Better watch for them hyenas, if you flex, then they swarm
They cashing so many checks, they're calling him Tyler O-Comma
I'm tryna ball like I was Domo O'Connor in '09
Or probably September...
Boy, I'm just rhyming these syllables, suck my genitals
Album cover looking like the mascot of the timberwolves, skate park at Pemberton
Hoping that I ditched the chords and go pick up the pen again
'Cause I killed the dark shit like I'm motherfucking Zimmerman
Turn around and lose pounds like I'm fucking Timbaland
By pounds, I mean in (*beep*)
Give it 'til he cop brick like a wall with pig in it
And money coming out the blue, like cops are changing fits or shit, I'm killin' it
Fuck!

[Verse 3]
Back when Left Brain had the hightop fade (Fade)
And we would go skate on them concrete waves (Waves)
And now I switch gears to hear the cylinders pump
The beat thump, don't get it twisted, boy, my board's in the trunk (Skate!)

[Segue]
Can you roll my window up?
The fuck you turn my music down for, man?
Can you roll my window up?
Why? Damn!
'Cause it's windy
But I love it when your hair...

[Part II: "HAIR BLOWS"]

[Chorus]
Blows, when it blows
When your hair blows (When it blows)
Hanging out the sunroof
I love it when your hair blows
When it blows, when it blows
Hanging out the sunroof
I love it when your hair blows
When it blows (When it blows)
When your hair blows
Hanging out the sunroof

[Verse]
Listening to Mac DeMarco
Hanging out the roof window
Switch to third gear turbo
Skrrting on these niggas
Skrrting on these bitches
Listening to Mac DeMarco
Hanging out the roof window
Switch to third gear turbo
Skrrting on these niggas
Skrrting on these bitches

[Bridge]
You can say you don't want to take that drive
But your hair, it blows
(It blows me away)
I know we'll have a good time
You just gotta stop being scared
Just roll
Just come and roll with me
It's all good

[Outro]
Yeah, man, what's good, man? You good? I've been—
I've been chilling, man, I've been doing some push-ups and shit For real?
You know, fifty a day...
Oh, w-w-wait... is that that nigga, Tyler?
I think so
Bitch ass, nigga, here he come to me, man
Fuck this nigga, man, this— this nigga stink...
Wait, be quiet, be quiet
'Ight
My nigga, T, man! What's good, man? You good?
Alright, I see you!
I'm good, man, I'm good, I'm good
Ayy, man, I see you with your little girl, she— she looks... okay
Alright, y'all good, man, alright!
Ayy, your feature don't start for another twenty minutes
So you can go get your shit up, I can get y'all some shit...
And I see you with your little jewels and shit too, man!
Aw thanks, man, I'm trying, man, I'm just trying
Yeah, man, let me know if you need anything
I got you, just— you know... yeah
Alright, um...yeah, we'll probably walk around
And come back when the movie start or whenever
Ight, man, I'ma see you
Ight, my nigga... ight
Fucking faggot, man! I swear to God!
Yeah
Haha, this nigga bitch weak too!
Haha, yeah, she is
Goddammit! I'd still fuck!

[Verse 1: Tyler, The Creator]
I don't want you thinking I love you 'cause I stay
Girl, I really like you and happy we got laid
I think about your windows like four times in a day
I'm a pervert with a purpose, like priest who just got saved
Kissing, kissing, I'm on a mission of licking
The holy grail of your body, when you be pissin'
This is a kid from Africa, you, you are a kitchen
I come quicker than pitches from Sammy Sosa, you hoping I'm joking, but first

[Hook: Tyler, The Creator]
I'ma eat your pussy 'til you tell me you can't take it
Screaming "Stop it," don't you fake it, wanna tape it
Grab my camera, nine months later with a Tyler baby face
But that won't happen 'til I blow my load
I'ma eat your pussy 'til you tell me you can't take it
Screaming "Stop it," don't you fake it, wanna tape it
Grab my camera, nine months later with a Tyler baby face
But that won't happen 'til I blow my load

[Verse 2: Tyler, The Creator]
Your pussy tighter than door hinges, I munch you like sandwiches
But not any more 'cause I'm on tour, so
Look: FaceTime your clit, I will jack off my dick
I go hard, shit, I might need ice pack on my wrist
We fucking, I'm pumping, you know it's coming, bust in a couple of seconds
I'm sweating, I leave you slumped in the back of my truck, butt naked
Suck it out of me, I leave you with nuttin', get it?
This is what you wanted, this is what you came for

[Hook: Tyler, The Creator]
I'ma eat your pussy 'til you tell me you can't take it
Screaming "Stop it," don't you fake it, wanna tape it
Grab my camera, nine months later with a Tyler baby face
But— blow my load

[Interlude: Syd & Tyler, The Creator]
There's something 'bout the way you pick your cherries (You blow me away)
With your cherry (Cherry Bomb)
Make me feel like 4th of July (Can't breathe)
Cherry (You light my fireworks)
There's something 'bout the way you pick your cherries (You blow me away)
With your cherry bomb

[Outro: Shane Powers]
That was new music from the soundtrack of the upcoming film
F-[honk]
Be caller eight to win tickets to the triple feature at the Moon Theatres tonight
Three back to back to back movies at the Moon Theatres tonight
Be the eighth caller, only on Golf Radio
G-O-L-F, G-O-L-F, it's Golf Radio

[Intro: Tyler, The Creator]
I really made this song just so I could perform it
I don't even know what it mean
It means something

[Verse 1: Tyler, The Creator]
Aw, nah, boy, don't cut that wood
Found out your flowers don't smell that good
But if they smell real good to him
Then he don't need nobody else nose to win
Look, I am a god
Nobody prays to the sight of you
All y'all niggas wear camouflage
I'm in a field wearing pink and blue
I wear pink, they can see me
Nigga, you don't create, you just repeat
Nigga, you don't got drive, you just beep beep
Beep-beep, talk shit from the backseat

[Pre-Chorus: Tyler, The Creator]
Come and light my fire
I'll blow your fucking face off
Nigga, I'm the goddamn pilot
And I decide when we gon' take off, let's get it

[Chorus: Tyler, The Creator]
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Tie the knot (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Kick the chair (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Float in the air (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
It's cherry bomb

[Verse 2: Tyler, The Creator]
You motherfuckers want war? Then come get it
You motherfuckers don't really want it
You motherfuckers want war and I want more
Nigga, fuck you and everything that you come for
You motherfuckers wanna blow? Pow-pow
Pow-pow, let's take 'em to the gun store
I don't got enough time
Fuck your Rolex, nigga
Don't compare him to mine
'Cause I don't know that nigga

[Pre-Chorus: Tyler, The Creator]
Come and light my fire
I'll blow your fucking face off
Nigga, I'm the goddamn pilot
And I decide when we gon' take off, let's get it

[Chorus: Tyler, The Creator]
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Tie the knot (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Kick the chair (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Float in the air (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
It's cherry bomb

[Bridge: Tyler, The Creator]
You motherfuckers want war?
Fuck that, light this, that cherry bomb
Fuck that, light this, that cherry bomb
Fuck that, light this, that cherry bomb
Fuck that, light this, that cherry bomb
Fuck that, light this, that cherry bomb
Fuck that, light this, that cherry bomb
Fuck that, light this, that cherry bomb
Fuck that, light this, that cherry bomb
Fuck that, light this, that cherry bomb
Fuck that, light this, that cherry bomb
Fuck that, light this, that cherry bomb
Fuck that, light this, that cherry—

[Refrain: Syd, Tyler, The Creator, Both]
Firecracker and I'm ready to blow
Don't fire me up, I lose control (I lose control)
Firecracker and I'm ready to blow
Don't fire me up, I lose control (I lose control)
Firecracker and I'm ready to blow
Don't fire me up, I lose control (I lose control)
Firecracker and I'm ready to blow
Don't fire me up, I lose control (I lose control)
Firecracker and I'm ready to blow
Don't fire me up, I lose control (I lose control)
Don't fire me up, I lose control (I lose control)
I'm ready to blow, don't fire me up (I lose control)
Don't fire me up, I lose control (I lose control)
Firecracker, firecracker, firecracker (I lose control)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (I lose co—)
Yeah

[Outro]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
"GOLF 191, Okaga! Playing only classic hits!"

[Instrumental Intro]

[Chorus: Syd & Tyler, The Creator]
Find your wings (You're supposed to fly)
Find your wings (Find your wings)

[Verse 1: Syd & Tyler, The Creator]
Hey you, whatcha doin' and why you runnin'?
Supposed to fly and take control cause you're the pilot
You can't swim, you're gonna drown, the sharks are comin'
The sky's your home, there's no limit, you know you gotta

[Chorus: Syd & Tyler, The Creator]
Find your wings (Fly)
Find your wings (Find your wings)
(My lil nigga, the world is yours, birdy)

[Verse 2: Kali Uchis]
We can go down to the rainbows
Don't let your high keep your brain low
You're a bird
You're supposed to fly away
The way you stand there
Don't let your wings go to waste (Go to waste)
The sky is your home, be free
Be free

[Intro: ScHoolboy Q]
Fuck you running for, nigga?
Ayy, nigga, come here, nigga
Let me try that hat on
I told you come over here, stupid bitch
Come over here with that weak ass hat
You bitch ass nigga

[Verse: Tyler, The Creator]
All y'all niggas smoking y'all brains out
In the car called life, took the lame route
Going nowhere fast, but you think that you not
'Cause you never hesitate to take the thang out
In the drop top, pop the trunk then pop-pop
At his drop top, took another lame out
Oh, you the big nigga? Take a hit, nigga
Well, I hope you understand you ain't shit, nigga
'Cause them niggas whole purpose is to get niggas
And make sure that your mama cry the pain out
Now that gang's out to get you, but you stuck in the same house
Nigga never came out, wow
It's a shame how you got sucked in that life
But hey, man, at least you got a name now
They say you a "real nigga" 'cause you kill niggas
Nuts for that ice and that cream banana peel niggas
Banana clips spill, niggas wanna bang out
For approval, boy, you can't even hang out
That light you hit, it was the light I held
That's why you never ever see me with my chain out
I don't need to, truth they don't feed you
Lies what they got on their plate, they gon' eat you
They got a homie called Karma, he gon' meet you
Better look the other way if he ever see you
And run as fast as you can, nigga

[Outro: ScHoolboy Q & Toro y Moi]
I'm runnin', I'm runnin', I'm runnin'
That's the shit I be talkin' 'bout, though (I'm runnin', I'm runnin')
We ain't tryna hear that shit, my nigga (I'm runnin')
Cuz, stay preachy, cuz (I'm runnin')
Like, nigga, come on, homie (I'm runnin')
I don't wanna hear that shit
Preachy shit, my nigga
Yeah, we all black, who give a fuck, cuz?
I'm runnin', I'm runnin', I'm runnin'
I don't give a fuck, nigga
Whatchu mean?

[Verse 1: Tyler, the Creator]
Fly with the birds in the wind
Where you wanna go, who, what, why, when? Uh
On a scale of nine to ten
You taking L's baby, hold my hand and feel like the wind, uh
Now fasten your seat belt, and turn everything off
I got your attention, motherfucker, I'm bout to take off
I'm the new pilot in this bitch
And I ain't bring no extra baggage for this trip
But I do bring a terror like I hate America
A brand new camera and a parachute
Nigga, you and I are not the same, we not parallel
Don't talk to me 'fore I fucking embarrass you
Now sit your ass down, you doing three much
I'm the captain on this bitch, don't get it fucked up
Or you'll get fucked up

[Break]

[Verse 2: Tyler, the Creator]
I'm so far ahead of you niggas, I'm in the future
Y'all don't even know about my existence, it's like I'm dead to you niggas
I'm saying (I'm saying I'm dead to y’all niggas)
Look, y'all be on the stupid shit
I'm the fucking pilot, your goal is to be the stewardess
I'm the fucking bomb like I was stuffing my shoe with it
The boy's a fucking problem like turbulence boy, get used to it
If anything happens, it's one door
'Cause if I see a building, motherfucker, we're done for
I'ma hit a couple of 'em up, this is parkour
Better call your family and give 'em your last wishes, nigga
And every line dirty, you thought that I dug ditches
But I never give a fuck, it's like I was born dickless

[Refrain: Tyler, the Creator]
I don't wanna crash anymore, I don't wanna crash anymore
I just wanna soar through the space, let the wind hit my face
Til' there's nothing left in the gas tank, I don't wanna crash
I don't wanna crash anymore, I don't wanna crash anymore
I just wanna soar through the space, let the wind hit my face
Til' there's nothing left in the gas tank, I don't wanna crash

[Bridge: Tyler, The Creator, Syd]
(I don't wanna crash)
I'm in first class but I feel like coach, yeah, uh
(And it's okay if I fall, I just wanna fly)
'Cause I'm in first class but I feel like coach, yeah, uh
(The wind's getting high, I don't wanna crash)
'Cause I'm in first class but I feel like coach, yeah
(And it's okay if I fall, I just wanna fly)
It's kinda weird
(The wind is getting high)
'Cause I'm in first class but I feel like coach, look (Say what?)
(Oh, yeah, yeah)

[Outro: Tyler, the Creator]
I'm tryna find a place, a place where I can land at
A place where I can be with no alphabet
Dictating where to stand at
You can buy a car, you can buy many things
You can buy happiness, but you can't buy wings
You can buy a parachute, you can buy a parrot
But you can't buy a pair of wings, aerodynamic
To stay cloud level
That's why I'm in first class but I feel like coach (Fucked up)
Cause I'm in first class but I feel like coach
It's just crazy how you can have everything in the world, but
You in first class but you feel like coach, damn
That's why I'm in first class, but I feel like coach

[Outro]
I don't wanna—

[Intro: Bunny Sigler]
"Yeah!"
"You feel alright?"
"Yeah!"

[Verse 1: Tyler, The Creator]
God, goodness gracious
I can't wait to see the look on y'all niggas faces
That boy T nuts, surprised his thoughts isn't chafing
And fuck them crackers up at Mountain Dew, them niggas is racist
Cabbage was made, critic faggots was shook
So I told 'em that I'll exchange the word "faggot" with "book"
And all them "books" is pissed off and had they page in a bunch
Fucking attitude switched just like a "book" when it struts
But I'm a fraud, I pray to God when the six triple "book" bashing
While me and my favorite author's lips tickle
Peter Parker pick a pack of peppers when the plot thickens
Tyler, The Creator fucking kill you with a popsicle
Cold blooded, so we rock mittens so they won't find him
Not kidding, keep the Tommy on me; bitch, I'm Ms. Pickles
Said I seemed off, last time that team talked
Sick of making niggas cabbage so I took the 'Preme off
Should've bought some stock in it (Yo, it's fucked up, I get it, put a sock in it)
Not Golf when the little homies don't—wait, let's weigh my options
I bought me a mansion, and bought some attention
Ain't give none to Hopsin, and dear Boyce Watkins
Why you mad? It's the slave in me
It's facts, boy, I'm back like Rosa Parks's least favorite seat
Videos, stage dives, popups, they watching T
While y'all niggas watching the throne, the throne be watching me

[Interlude: Shane Powers, Tyler, The Creator, Bunny Sigler]
"If you fuck this up... There are so many fucking kids right now, listening to this guy."
("Yeah!"—"You feel alright?"—"Yeah!")
"Get those wings flapping, motherfucker! 'Cause this kid's ready to fucking fly."
("Yeah!"—"You feel alright?"—"Yeah!")
Eenie, meenie, miney, mo, nigga, nigga on the wall
Rap bars, jail bars, die or shoot a basketball
Tyler, the dark skin arrested in Austin
Cops know who I was cause their kids said the show was awesome
("Yeah!"—"You feel alright?"—"Yeah!")
"Tyler, Tyler, I swear to—I swear to fuck! If you fucking... Do not fuck this up! You have the whole world in your fucking hands."
("Yeah!"—"You feel alright?"—"Yeah!")

[Verse 2: Tyler, The Creator]
How many leaders in the house?
Well can somebody bring the mirrors out? I'm getting lonely
Likes and apologies and snaps make it obvious
That everybody on this fucking planet lacking confidence
How many leaders in the house? (Do not fuck this up!)
Well can somebody bring the camera out so I can film me?
T a great director, niggas' vision must be blurry
Boy, I get them epic shots like jaywalking in Missouri
Wait, how many leaders in the house?
Well can somebody bring my album out so I can hear one?
Pour me a drink, shit, I don't know what to think
Cause all these niggas leaning like they Forest Whitaker's blink
Wait, how many leaders in the house?
See why nobody got they hands up? See, that's the issue

[Verse: Tyler, The Creator]
Um, excuse me mister, but can you please turn down the lights?
I don't really like all these cameras, man
And this shit just don't feel right
And I don't really wanna be rude to you, sir
But fuck you mean I can't wear my hat in here?
And you got me fucked up, if you think I care, nigga
I hope you little niggas is listening
Them Golf Boys is in this bitch like an infant
The blind niggas used to make fun of my vision
And now I pay a mortage and they stuck with tuition
So special, the teacher asked if I was autistic
And now I'm making plates, you just washing the dishes
So if you don't mind, get the fuck out of my kitchen
But keep your ego there so I can butt fuck your opinion
But in the meantime, brainwashing millions of minions
Leader of the new school? (Ha, I'm in my own school)
And you would never catch me in none of their fucking shin-digs
I hope you fucking niggas is angry, pissed, and offended
In Search Of... did more for me than Illmatic
That's when I realized we ain't cut from the same fabric
I made my own shit, you went out and bought yours
Man, I got too much drive, motherfucker, I hate traffic
La-di-da-di, I'm going harder
Than coming out the closet to conservative Christian fathers
When it's a lot at stake carne asada but let's be honest, I'm really morphing
Named my album "Cherry Bomb" because "Greatest Hits" sounded boring
I don't like to follow the rules
She said that I must, I don't have any armpits
She wanted to talk; "Who's in charge of this Golf shit?"
I said "Howdy do? How are you? I'm the sergeant
And who I are isn't really important
My heart is as dark as a window with car tint
So hop in with your friends, gal and I'll unpark it
And I'll do donuts until the fat one is carsick."
It's young T

[Bridge]
I don't like to follow the rules
And that's just who I am
I hope you understand
And I don't really think y'all cool
So give yourself a hand
No, no, give yourself a hand
Better pose for that camera
You better pose, boy you better pose
And it's your life nigga I suppose
For the lights, for the camera, and the action
Now your face is meltin' from the flash of the big ol' lights
Nigga you ask for this life

[Outro]
Welcome to death camp
Yeah, welcome to death camp
Yeah, welcome to death camp
Kissing on my bean bag
Your lips high-five my tongue
And my fingers moonwalk through your hair
(For the lights, and the camera, and the action)
This is fun I can tell
I don't know if you'll handle it well
Welcome to hell camp
(Lights, and the camera, and the action)
You should be mine in a way tonight
(For the lights, and the camera, and the action)

[Intro: Dr. TC]
So, what's going on, Wolf?
Talk to me, man
People worry, we hearing stories about you getting into fights and all this unnecessary bullshit
It's—Wh—What's on your mind? Talk to me, I'm here

[Hook]
Domo, roll another one
I'm just fuckin' with you, I ain't smokin' none
My squad bring terror, no intended pun (Wolf Gang, nigga)
Merch booth made niggas extensive funds (This nigga paid)
Mama got the Rover with the Range (Yeah)
She don't ever, ever gotta struggle, not again (Wolf Gang, nigga)
And I put that on my dead grandmama's name (Rest in peace)
Too soon (Yeah)

[Verse 1: Tyler, The Creator]
Uh, my nigga Slater, yeah, that's my little pony
Little homies is repping like I been fucking with Kony
Nigga, Phillip and Kobi, to my niggas that know me
Your boy seem happy as fuck, but truthfully, your boy lonely
Nigga's a target for marketing, he's an artist
Can't even walk into Target without bothering customers
Bothering, asking me for a picture, can I talk to they sister?
Nah, nigga, get lost, you're fucking smothering
God, I wanna quit, but I can't
'Cause mother and sister can't pay the rent
Four stories with storage, I'm twenty-one with a mortgage
And touring's paying the bills, life is paying for thrills
Life's a bitch, bruh, but from the third floor, man, she's gorgeous
A year ago, I was broke; now, how can I afford this?
I started off with disposables; now, I have an assortment
And I'm using these negatives to develop a portrait
Now, the frame is a pain in the ass
To get it in without a scratch or stain on the glass, but that's not important
Just as long as it's printed, and I hinted it is
But when I get it, I'll make sure you get a copy, you bitch
Shit, I'll even add a signature with the fuckin' pic-a-ture
I'll even tell you the film I used, and the aperture

[Hook: Tyler, The Creator]
Domo, roll another one
I'm just fuckin' with you, I ain't smokin' none
My squad bring terror, no intended pun (Wolf Gang, nigga)
Merch booth made niggas extensive funds (This nigga paid)
Mama got the Rover with the Range (Yeah)
She don't ever, ever gotta struggle, not again (Wolf Gang, nigga)
And I put that on my dead grandmama's name (Rest in peace)
Too soon (Yeah)

[Verse 2: Tyler, the Creator]
Uh, Grandmother died, didn't cry, not a tear
Not gonna lie, fucking weird, no water dripped out the eye
But when I got the news, yup, it left your boy stuck
'Cause when my mom dipped, she was the one that gave me a fuck
Mom calling and calling, I'm on my way to a show
I answered, she crying, saying, "Sadie is dying"
The doc said she only had a week for us to speak
Before she deceased, 'cause cancer was just eating her cheeks up
Fuck! Nah, this is really awkward for me, bruh
I hang the phone up, and adjust my seat back
And started to think, like, "What the fuck just happened?"
I never had a death, and I just seen her a week ago
Meet them at the hospital, I should
In between the set of BADBADNOTGOOD
Lionel asked what happened, I said it's bad, bad, not good
Just take me to the Cedars-Sinai off of Oakwood
Getting there, family sitting center chair
Awkward in the lobby, it was floating in the thinning air
Getting there, need a sticker saying how I got in there
There's her room, open up the curtain, she's just sitting there, "Hello"
Our conversation's brief
Couldn't even make eye contact when we speak
Lookin' at her, you could tell all she had was weak
And I'm not talkin' days, bruh, I'm talkin' 'bout her strength
I sat there, twenty minutes tops
Hoping it was just a fucking plea that she could cop
She died that night

[Outro: Dr. TC & Tyler, the Creator]
Oh, that's heavy, man
I'm sorry for your loss
Yeah, whatever
Don't worry about it...
The last time I seen Sammy, he was lookin' for you
Fuck that nigga, Samuel!
Uhh, have you seen him?
Nah, but if I seen that nigga, I woulda killed him

[Intro: Tallulah]
Tamale, tamale, tamale, tamale, tamale, tamale, tamale!

[Verse 1: Tyler, The Creator]
They say I've calmed down since the last album
Well, lick my dick, how does that sound? Um
Smell my gooch, you could kiss my buns
And I don't give a shit, bend my rectum
Somebody said bands make her dance
She thinks you're getting cash, no, bitch, you're dumb
The only thing that you're gonna get is this dick
Wait, turn this up, bitch, this my jam (Where the drums at?)
Here, take a goddamn picture
And tell Spike Lee he's a goddamn nig​ger
And while you're at it, pass the lotion
And fapping and Xbox Live, that fun
Before I cum, I call your sister
When she comes over, I take picture
Instantly put it on Instagram
And suplex her off a building if I get banned
(I'm just fucking around)

[Chorus: Tallulah & Tyler, The Creator]
Tamale! Tamale! Tamale! Tamale!
Why y'all so salty?
Hot tamale is on
A can of beans, bitch, I'm on
Your boy is bad to the bone

[Verse 2: Tyler, The Creator]
Bring back the horns that was played in the beginning
And tell Tony Parker that I found his vision
And if he's tripping off my sneak dissing (Uh)
Then he has to deal with me and my minions
Tryna get a Bimmer, E46
Have you heard "48"? Motherfucker, I'm great (Yeah)
Golf Wang prints always cover the sleeves
From cuts for the Biebs, 'cause he's puffin' the trees, please
Fuck I look like? Got a new bike
Tire never pop like the puss on a butch dyke
Think I give a fuck, I do, I go raw
Then I bust in her jaw like (Fuck that disease, bitch!)
My urethra, hole that I pee from
Bigger than the obese neck on Aretha
Now turn that snare down, I'm back like I'm Rosa Parks fare
On the same damn bus like, "You're going to jail now"

[Chorus: Tallulah & Tyler, The Creator]
Tamale! Tamale! Tamale! Tamale!
Why y'all so salty?
Hot tamale is on
A can of beans, bitch, I'm on
Your boy is bad to the bone

[Verse 3: Tyler, The Creator]
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck
If a woodchuck could ever give a fuck? Bitch, suck dick
Motherfuck' you and your opinions
(Can you kick it?) Yes, I can sir, where the lump is
Sicker than the last bar bold-er, I'm a CO
Colorado, fuck Michael, bitch, I'm badder than my BO
Find me and Lance tryna dance during chemo
Before they repossess our strong arm bands and tuxedos

[Chorus: Tallulah & Tyler, The Creator]
Yeah, buddy, this is my jam, na, na, na, na, na, na, na!
Golf Wang, Golf Wang, no, fuck you, na, na, na, na, na, na!
Why y'all so salty?
Hot tamale is on
A can of beans, bitch, I'm on
Your boy is bad to the bone

[Verse 4: Tyler, The Creator]
How many fags can a lightbulb screw?
Well, if it has a dick, maybe two or six
And tell the NRA I'm about to lose my shit
And shoot through Wayne LaPierre's hair with a crucifix
How many ladies in the house?
How many ladies in the house without a rich nigga, huh?
A little Jergens in my palm for the jerkin'
Hope my mom don't catch me
Tryna set mood, little RedTube, fuck lotion
I don't need lube, dry fist suits me (Yeah)
Up and down, friction make a *fap fap* sound
The shit's kind of disgusting, fap time
And before I flatline, Clancy chimes in my room and catch me
This shit's so damn embarrassing, like—

[Outro: Tyler, The Creator & Christian Clancy]
Oh, shit, aw, fuck
What the fuck?
Aw, I'm sorry
Is that my shirt?
Yeah, I'm sorry, I just wanted some bangs
Clean that shit up, we're going to the office!
Fuck