Letra de SIR BAUDELAIRE - Tyler, The Creator

(Feat. The Creator, DJ Drama)

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 like thick lotion

That big B is in motion, uh (Gangsta Grillz)

Coral peach cobbler, dude, spit like 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

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