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Correct Yonkers Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: T
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Tyler, The Creator
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Correct Yonkers
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Lyrics:
[Verse 1] I'm a f-ckin' walkin' paradox, no I'm not Threesomes with a fuckin' 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 pussy nigga fishbone This nigga Jasper tryna get grown About five-seven of his bitches in my bedroom Swallow the cinnamon, I'mma scribble this sin and shit While Syd is tellin' me that she's been gettin' intimate with men Syd, shut the fuck up Here's the number to my therapist Tell him all your problems, he's fuckin' awesome with listenin' Wolf Haley, Golf Wang [Verse 2] Jesus called, he said he's sick of the disses I told him to quit bitchin', this isn't a fuckin' hotline For a fuckin' shrink, sheesh I already got mine And he's not fuckin' 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 cocks that cock nines This ain't no V Tech shit 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 fuckin' 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 robbin' 'em I'll crash that fuckin' airplane at 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 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, fuck money, diamonds and bitches, 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 fuckin' leaves It's been a couple months, and Tina still ain't permed her fuckin' weave, damn [Verse 3] They say success is the best revenge So I beat DeShay up wit a stack of magazines I'm in Oh not again another critic writing report I'm stabbin any bloggin' faggot hipster wit a pitchfork Still suicidal I am I'm Wolf, Tyler put this fuckin knife in my hand. I'm Wolf, Ace gon put that fuckin hole in my head And I'm Wolf, that was me who shoved the cock in your bitch (What the fuck man?) Fuck all the fame and the hype G I jus wanna know if my father would ever like me But I don't give a fuck so he prolly jus like me A motherfuckin goblin (Fuck everything man) that's what my said then the bunny Jumped off my shoulder now mii conscience dead now the only Guidance I had is splattered on cement Actions speak louder than words lemme try this shit Dead.
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