[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

[Pre-Verse: 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 nig​ger
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!

[Pre-Verse: 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

[Part I - THE BROWN STAINS OF DARKEESE LATIFAH PART 6-12 (Remix)]

[Verse 1: Tyler, The Creator]
Oh, you the motherfucking man, huh?
Oh, you be fucking bitches, counting all the bands, huh?
Oh, you be trapping out the bando, selling grams, huh?
Oh, you be smoking, drinking lean, and popping Xans, huh?
You see, that's the bullshit that I don't need
I'm telling y'all niggas, y'all ain't fucking with me
See, I looked in the mirror and he said, "You are the man"
And I said, "Hey man, I agree"
Rocks on rainbow, Ben's a nice fellow
Your neck reflects your personality, and mine is yellow
Boy, I hit the block, like I hate Legos
They know, they got thirty seconds; Jared Leto
Before they see some halos, and I reload the ammo
Boy, it's Golf Wang-o, and that's the squad I bang-o
Until my fucking brain go, now let's reload the aim-o

[Verse 2: Tyler, The Creator]
Can't a nigga get some fucking chaos in hurr?
I'm the truth and the dare
And you can get your ass beat just like the kick and the snare (Ayo)
ScHoolyboy is my niggy, you know I'm good in the 50s
That boy not that bad, eh, it's no Biggie
It's the G-O, and the L-F, we go-go, no homo
We blackout, and go hard like JoJo and fuckin' Diggy
No ship in this series, since I pissed off Iggy, man (What?)
Been that man since Batman had a sidekick
Catch me in some Vans like one of them soccer mamas
And them bitches blue like that family went to a Dodger
Solve 'em (Oh no!) You can't bitch, I'm a problem (A problem)
And you'll get fucked up like the thoughts inside of my noggin (Yeah)
Going harder than the quidditch in Harry Potter
All my shows got one black in it like Larry David
And I'm that nigga, meaning I'm two niggas, I'm schizo (Yeah, uh)
Brim low, mind motherfucking been gone
Pink and yellow on my neck remind you of my dickhole
And I don't really fuck with you niggas, shout out to Jim Crow (Nigga)

[Verse 3: Tyler, The Creator]
Don't get offended, love being darkskinned-ed
Twenty-three with a crib, and I don't got no tenants
And I don't like sports, but the court got a tennis
"Is that diamonds on your neck?" Stay the fuck out my business
See, that's that Cherry Bomb, get my burr on
That's McLaren, '91 out the Chevron
Motors Flog Gnaw (Skrrt!), Vans on, fuck your Jordans
Went from throwing up to throwing carnivals (Yeah, nigga!)
Boy, I'm a sicko, Flaco nigga, but kinda macho
Boy, I got some vatos and shout out to ScHooly, he kinda loco
Pack a de la pistol, we splitting nachos, then for that cheese
Boy, he was using some shells just like a taco, so grab your goggles
Nigga, Taco Tuesday, you don't want none of that
Have you heard of Fairfax? Boy, we was running that
Nigga took the store from us, yeah, fuck all of that (Damn)
(Man, he- he really took the store)

[Verse 4: ScHoolboy Q]
Crack a cracker with a barrel, uh (Yeah)
Gang bang tattoos, this ain't a Louis rag (Rag)
My Orange Paisley got me crip crazy (Uh, what's up, cuz?)
Pants heavy, sag to the left with the belt strapped (Strapped)
No face mask, nigga, just toe tags (Bah, bah, bah!)
Still, the blunts getting passed, yeah (Bah!)
Ain't worried 'bout no niggas (Nigga)
I don't grieve over suckers (Suckers)
Gunpowder on my knuckles (Knuckle)
Call the ambulances (Ambulances)
I'm from the era of crip walking (Walking)
You was clown-dancing (Yeah)
You wanna be me, huh? (Huh?)
Cuz is wack in his raps and what he rap, he ain't done (Woah)
It's Top Dawg, Wolf Gang, smell the cat on your tongue (Yeah)
Pussyboy, you fucked over, nigga, control your gums (Uh)
Teeth missing, moms' won't recognize your face when it's lump, woo
My square homie's license, double life in my trunk (Woo)
Mind, power, body, and soul, we break handcuffs (Nigga)
Got a strike on my record, double cups, and duck (Yeah, yeah)
You want the life like us, you need to crip that coast (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
You want to steer that wheel, you want to smoke that kill (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Well, who am I?

[Part II - SPECIAL]

[Intro]
Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker
Anything that'll piss you muthafuckas off
I don't even smoke and I'm a level above all of y'all
Bitch, you couldn't reach me with a ladder and a calling card

[Chorus]
I'm special, nigga
Who the fuck are you?
I'm special, nigga

[Verse]
They used to tell me to calm down, said I have a problem
Now I'm runnin' shit, that's why you never see me wearin' joggers
Lead by example, how?
All y'all is my son and I ain't never had a fuckin' father
Boy, I'ma bring the noise
I got my own beat and we all got drums
What these weapons about? We're just flexin' about
You on your grind but who the one that got the wep at their house?
Bitch, I do this on purpose, you niggas don't got a purpose
This nigga call me a clown, nigga I own the circus
Stack is sittin' in my pocket folded like a papaya
And you know I golf bitch like I been sleepin' with Tiger
Woody woody, my mob, mob is goodie we Oddkast
We O-K-K-K just like the clan hoodie
Golf shit packet, rip it out the fuckin' package
In that all pink fit lookin' like a fuckin' faggot
Who the fuck you think you fuckin' with, nigga?
I'm a bad case of I don't even know
I gotta to tear the shit out of this goddamn house
I think that I'ma blow my muthafuckin' brains out
Tyler, take a chill pill, nigga