[Part I]

[Chorus: Tyler, The Creator]

For your boy

I'm watching Freaks and Geeks with the trampoline on the floor

I'm tryna cop the new McLaren with the vertical doors

Nigga

[Post-Chorus: Tyler, The Creator]

Money, money, money, money, money ain't the motive

What's your name again? Nobody knows it

Don't speak to me, nigga, you not important

I'm focused (Two, three, four)

Bring in the horns

[Verse 1: Tyler, The Creator & Kanye West]

They say I'm nutty, I'm picnic basket

I'm short of a sandwich, I'm peanut butter

Boyce Watkins a faggot, please come and get me (Two, three, four)

Said I suckin' at your neck, like a hickey, boy, I'm sicky (Two, three, four)

Like a HIV victim, ain't nobody fuckin' with me

I got banned from New Zealand, whitey called me a demon (Yeah)

And a terrorist? Goddamn it, I couldn't believe it

Ban a kid from a country, I never fall, never timber (Two, three, four)

But you fucked up as a parent, your child idol's a nigga

I clearly don't give a fuck, so you could run that shit back

And fuck your loud pack, and fuck your Snapchat (Man)

Cherry Bomb the greatest fuckin' album since the days of sound (Two, three, four)

And that shit gon' pop just like that nigga that was never 'round

Damn, 'bout to drop, gas 'em up, thick exhaust (Woo)

Young T, came quick, hard to beat, dick is soft

We ain't lyin', we the truth, call him Simba, beast is loose (Two, three, four)

Tyler, The Creator sweatin' Jesus juice

Put that fuckin' cow on my level, 'cause I'm raising the stakes (Why, oh, why don't they like me? They don't like me, oh)

Mom, I made you a promise, it's no more Section 8

And what we ate was the steaks, now our section is great (Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, don't they like me?)

'Cause that's the level I'm at, my nigga, pass 'em a plate

Ye

[Bridge: Kanye West]

Why, oh, why, why, why don't they like me? (Two, three, four)

'Cause Nike gave a lot of niggas checks (Two, three, four)

But I'm the only nigga to ever check Nike

[Verse 2: Kanye West & Tyler, The Creator]

Richer than white people with black kids

Scarier than black people with ideas (Two, three, four)

Nobody can tell me where I'm headin' (Two, three, four)

But I feel like Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen at my weddin' (Yeah)

They say I'm crazy, but that's the best thing goin' for me

You can't lynch Marshawn if Tom Brady throwin' to me (Two, three, four)

I made a million mistakes, but I'm successful in spite of 'em (Two, three, four)

I believe you like a fat trainer taking a bite of somethin'

I wanna turn the tanks to playgrounds

I dreamt of 2Pac, he asked me "Are you still down?" (Two, three, four)

Yeah, my nigga, it's on, it's on, it's on, it's on (Two, three, four)

I know they told they white daughters, "Don't bring home Jerome"

I am the free nigga archetype (Woo)

I am the light and the beacon; you can ask the deacon (Ask the deacon)

It's funny, when you get extra money (Two, three, four)

Every joke you tell just be extra funny (Yeah, yeah)

I mean, you can even dress extra bummy

Cocaine, bathroom break, nose extra runny (Two, three, four)

And I gave you all I got, you still want extra from me (Woo) (Two, three, four)

Oxford want a full-blown lecture from me

And the Lexus pull up, errr, like hop, I hopped out, like wassup?

Err-err-err, step back, hold up, my nigga, you suck

Hold up (Skrrt)

I studied the proportions

Emotions runnin' at a Autobahn speed-level (Two, three, four)

Had a drink with fear, and I was textin' God (Two, three, four)

He said, "I gave you a big dick, so go extra hard", uh (Woo)

[Chorus: Tyler, The Creator]

For your boy

I'm tryna cop the new McLaren with the vertical doors

I'm watchin' Freak and Geeks, got a trampoline in my room

Damn (Two, three, four)

[Part II]

[Verse 3: Tyler, The Creator & Lil Wayne, both]

Hold your fuckin' horses

Niggas really fuckin' thought that T lost it

Like I bet it at a auction

Been exhausted, I been workin'

While y'all silly bros smoke like broken exhaust tips

Fuckin' losers

Hold your fuckin' ponies, my homie

I'll whip your donkey by my lonely, I eat pussy like Shoney's, yeah

It's Tunechi, homie, Master of Ceremonies

I knock 'em down, Domino effect, no pepperoni, I swear

It's them Golf boys, like them Hot Boys (Yeah)

For the nine-nine and two-thousand, but it's the two-thou' and (Yeah)

The one-four and the one-five, yo, what up, Wayne?

What up, Slime? Nigga, go hard

Yeah, I'ma go hard like before came

Got too much drive, need like ten lanes

Life is a broad, and she give brain

That's that road head (Yeah), that's a dream car

Got a full tank of that same year I was born

That's that one-nine-nine-one, 'nother nigga like I, you won't find one

'Cause, nigga, I'm a god, a divine one; Tune! (Two, three, four)

My trigger finger wise, but my .9 dumb (Yeah)

Middle finger blind, so it's fuck A-N-Y-one (Um)

Fuck, skate, and die, son, a hundred ways to die, son

I'm starin' at a tramp on lean, make my eye jump

Use Adderall like alarm clocks, wake my high up

Stakes are high, well done, and prime cut; eat up

I stick my Rollie in her mouth, let the time come

She got hair like Sheneneh, and eyes like Wanda, oh my goodness

Wayne, them bitches ugly, these niggas colder than Tommy buddy

Ye, we hittin' models like Tony Parker be hittin' bottles

Bitch, I'm goin' harder than yellow cabbies stoppin' for Lionel (Black ass nigga)

They be duckin' us niggas, shout out to Donald Sterling (Two, three, four)

Boy, let's get a scrimmage and cut some niggas, I'll bring the Clippers

And a couple owners that's kinda German, you bring the nooses

And a couple trees, where the money grow and get bodies burnin'

'Cause I'm tryna hang like I'm Mr. Cooper or Jews in Berlin

Or some niggas from Alabama, Birmingham

My new music's all over the street like Erick Sermon was

Fuck us, maybe we should team up

Anti-Golf boys 'cause I don't fuck with me either

I'm a liar, I'm a faggot, ugh

Son, you need Jesus

But I heard he left Sunset to go on tour with Yeezus (That's too harsh)

Well, I'm prayin' for the new Yeezys

And you pussies prayin' that we squash the beef like zucchini

I know, it ain't gain, nor fame, nor tame

Or lame, nor strange, nah, faggot, it's Golf Wang