| Tyler we ah, I know it’s short notice but I brought all your friends here
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| For some reason I couldn’t get a hold of Taco and Jasper
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| But, I just brought all your friends to talk to you
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| Because, they’re really worried about you
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| I thought it would be better if, they could talk to you
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| It was all a dream, I used to read Complex magazines
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| When I rhyme I’m tryna get pictures in High Times
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| Smoke trees and see my dreams hanging in the sky line
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| Swanton bomb off the bed into a fine dime
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| In my mind I’m just tryna smoke the finest
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| And get high sticking bad heinas in vaginas
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| I’m the flyest when it come to this, fire when I come to spit
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| I am getting higher when the lighter comes in front of this
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| I’m a stoner yeah, yeah, yeah you get the picture now
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| 30 thousand feet gonna make it hard for me to simmer down
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| Another flight, another beat, another city, wow
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| Thus another couple bitches crying when I kick 'em out
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| Where we at? |
| We on top of the world
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| And five minutes from suicide, I biked it to the park
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| I walked onto the block, met a guy, burgundy 'Preme snap-back
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| Hurling himself and cars, and flirting with blonde Cadillacs
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| All was great, all was great, Frankie had the blues in fact
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| Bunch of pale hipster girls, pretty, but they booty flat
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| Teenage males, couldn’t tell, I was going through
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| And had a wallet full of cream, Amex Green, Beamer almost black
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| Parked in front the studio Bastard’s recorded at
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| Earl, Gilbert, Tyler, Hodgy, Domo, Left, Taco, Nakel
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| Sydney, Lionel, Juan, Michael, Jasper, Hal and Matt
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| Bet I’m missing several but I had to bring that pattern back
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| We live inside a house that says fuck 'em on the welcome mat
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| Deep inside the ear canals of Bill O’Reilly’s daughter that’s
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| Where I’m at? |
| Now where we at? |
| Wolf Gang, where we at?
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| Swell motions get promotions, to my whole team
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| Hell yeah I smoke weed cause I like to go green
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| Professor Beats educates niggas, let me proceed
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| Shine chandelier bright mike, if your nose bleeds
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| We at Randy’s ordering that 306
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| Milk and glaze is the greed gold mix me
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| Your bitch is coming along, yeah she hum to my song
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| Singing like they were for her, but they were for the blur
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| No longer, but we working, premature, immature
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| She’s unsure, I’m for sure, blouse and dress and my shirt
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| On the floor then pick it up, out the door, door
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| Chased an imaginary friend, a reverie absorption
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| Impregnate the dream 'til it has an abortion
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| Where we at? |
| We on top of the world
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| Everything they say I’d never have, I’m seeing
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| Now, I bet they see that we balling like All-Star Weekend
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| Always been the most cool, they chase our shade
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| They say life switches pace when you got shit made
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| So I’m just tryna get paid, don’t you remember the days
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| When your dreams were the only thing that kept you sane
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| And too often they think that they could stop me
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| Now every show we makin' half a Maserati
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| And the only thing blocking me is paparazzi
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| Now it’s gold Rolex’s if they try to clock me
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| Everything stays in the box like fighters in hockey
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| Miss me if you’re thinking we slack, work hard
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| I got the world saying every single Friday is black
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| Took your bitch, you ain’t getting her back, cause she know
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| Where we at nigga? |
| We on top of the world
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| Where we at, niggas?
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| Where the fuck we at, man? |
| You niggas don’t know me, huh
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| Where we at?
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| Down to fucking Earth, huh, down to fucking Earth, huh
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| Fuck everybody, here goes some extra girth Sir
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| You fucking critics are making my nerves hurt
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| Since I’m saying fuck everybody I guess that I’m a fucking pervert
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| My window is a book and I’m a fucking crook
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| Stealing phones to call home but the line is off the hook
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| My mom ain’t paid the bill, guess I can’t pay it either
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| I ain’t signed a fucking deal yet but when I do
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| Clancy and Dave are to take a percentages that
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| Could pay the whole city’s fucking mortgage
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| Hopefully I make a lot porn from touring in fucking Oregon
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| From playing piano organs and hopefully I can pay the bill
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| Shit is getting real, people begin to feel
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| Like I’m changing, but their complaining making big fucking deals
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| About some shit, they bitch and pout (Can we get backstage man?) |
| No, faggot, it’s sold out (Come on why you holding out
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| I though we was boys, without me, you wouldn’t be Tyler the Creator
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| You’re from the Derby, I can tell whenever you perform
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| A leopard can’t change it’s spots) But I’m a fucking unicorn
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| (Whatever man) Look, you can’t stop me, I’m going full monty
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| Fuck that, I’m Hitler, everyone’s a fucking Nazi
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| Wolf Gi-di-dang you be roaming where the fox be
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| And I be where, anybody cares
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| I try to preach «Fuck age, live dreams, and have fun»
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| (Here's some give a fuck, cake) Oh, maybe I should have some
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| (Asshole, have none) How can I wake up on the wrong side
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| Of the bed, when I don’t even fucking have one?
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| When I’m on that stage I feel important
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| A whole fucking assortment of children that’s taking Ritalin
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| Because the teacher said that the therapist wasn’t feeling him
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| You gotta be fucking kidding me
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| At school I was a zero, now I’m every boy’s hero
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| And they fear it when they hear it when that little fucker’s reciting my lyrics
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| Yeah rebel nigga cheer it, dead parents everywhere
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| It’s smelling like teen spirit. |
| okay, fuck it, Elvis has left the building |