Skip to content

Yonkers Lyrics – Tyler, The Creator

    Yonkers is a popular song by Tyler, The Creator from the 2011 album Goblin. Check words to Tyler, The Creator Yonkers Lyrics in English below.

    Yonkers Lyrics – Tyler, The Creator 

    Uh, Wolf Haley, Golf Wang, go

    [Verse 1]
    I’m a fuckin’ 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 motherfuckin’ Flintstone
    Making crack rocks outta pussy nigga fishbones (Haha)
    This nigga Jasper tryin’ to get grown
    About five, seven of his bitches in my bedroom (Hey)
    Swallow the cinnamon, I’ma scribble this sin and shit
    While Syd is tellin’ me that she’s been getting intimate with men
    (Syd, shut the fuck up)
    Here’s the number to my therapist (Shit)
    You tell him all your problems, he’s fuckin’ awesome with listenin’ (Haha)

    Uh, Wolf Haley, uh, Golf Wang
    Uh, Wolf Haley, Golf fuckin’ 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 9’s
    This ain’t no V. Tech shit, or Columbine
    But after bowling, I went home for some damn Adventure Time
    (What’d you do?) I slipped myself some pink Xannies (Yeah)
    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’ them
    I’ll crash that fuckin’ airplane that 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 overachiever, so how about I start a team of leaders
    And pick up Stevie Wonder to be the wide receiver? (Cool)
    Green paper, gold teeth, and pregnant golden 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
    It’s some cooking 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 perm her fuckin’ weave
    Uh, Wolf Haley, uh, Golf Wang
    Uh, Wolf Haley, Golf Wang, yeah
    Goddamn goblin
    Wolf Haley, uh, Golf Wang
    Uh, Wolf Haley, Golf Wang, yeah

    [Verse 3]
    They say success is the best revenge
    So I beat DeShay up with the stack of magazines I’m in
    Oh, not again, another critic writing report
    I’m stabbin’ any bloggin’ faggot hipster with 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 a cock in your bitch
    (What the fuck, man?) Fuck the fame and all the hype, G
    I just wanna know if my father would ever like me
    But I don’t give a fuck, so he’s probably just like me
    A motherfuckin’ goblin
    (Fuck everything, man) That’s what my conscience said
    Then it bunny-hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience dead
    Now the only guidance that I had is splattered on cement
    Actions speak louder than words, let me try this shit


    Writer(s): Tyler, The Creator (Tyler Okonma)

    Leave a Reply

    Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *