Lyrics SIR BAUDELAIRE - Tyler, The Creator, DJ Drama

SIR BAUDELAIRE

The sun beamin'
Y’all ready?
Ayo (DJ the fuck-It's DJ the fuck—)
It’s T, baby
I don’t think you’re ready
Wolf Haley, Bunnyhop, yo
I must say, I’m glad you found your way here
Yo
Cookie crumbs in the Rolls (Rolls), jet-fuel-scented vest (Vyoom)
Swim trunks in the trunk, Geneva water the best (The best, yeah)
The passport lookin' thick, the afro need a pick
My skin soak up the sun, ain’t shakin' hands with you bums (Nah)
Bunny Hoppa, the new car doors, they lift open (Woo)
The lake water, dry off at the French Open (Ayy)
I rub it in these niggas' faces lik thick lotion
That big B is in motion, uh (Gangsta Grillz)
Coral peach cobbler, dude, spit lik a llama do
Used to be reckless, you should see what them commas do
New le FLEUR* season, summertime look like private school
Keep it low, don’t want that shit to blow like Osama shoe
I’m a true connoisseur, hotel concierge
Know me as that spaced-out nigga with the chunky ears
UFC, that shit swole up, that’s VVS, keep Vic safe
That’s a mansion on that USB, it’s T
Yeah
I hope you niggas been spendin' your time wisely
Call me if you get lost, baby
As you can tell, we have (Haha)
This shit for the sunseekers
Got the bikes on the tarmac
Welcome to the disco
Hittin' wheelies and shit
Call me if you get lost
Perfume on the skin, ha
Hahaha
Call me if you lost
See, while y’all was in the house (Call me if you lost)
We was takin' Rolls Royces to go see alligators
DJ Drama, man (Call me if you lost)
Travelin' the world
Passport stamped up (Call me)
It’s Tyler Baudelaire, nigga