Yonkers: accordi di
Tyler
Tyler
The Creator
The Creator

N/A212 visualizzazioni
Tonalità: Eb major
Verse 1
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F
Uh, Wolf Haley
Golf Wang
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Db
Yeah
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F
Verse 2
I'm a fucking walking paradox,
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no, I'm not
F
F
Threesomes with a fucking triceratops,
Reptar
Rapping as I'm mocking
deaf rock stars
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Bbm
Wearing synthetic wigs made of
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F
Anwar's dreadlocks
Bedrock,
harder than a motherfucking Flintstone
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Bbm
Making crack rocks out of pussy
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F
nigga fishbones
This nigga Jasper tryna get grown
About five,
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Bbm
Am
Am
F
F
seven of his bitches in my bedroom
Swallow the cinnamon,
I'm a scribble this sin and shit
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Am
While Syd is telling me that she's
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Bbm
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been getting intimate with men
(Syd, shut the fuck up) Here's
E
E
the number to my therapist (shit)
F#
F#
You tell him all your problems,
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Ab
he's fucking awesome with listening
Verse 3
F
F
Uh, Wolf Haley
Uh, Golf Wang
Uh, Wolf Haley
Em
Em
F
F
Golf
fuckin' Wang
Verse 4
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F
Jesus called, he said he's sick of the disses I
Am
Am
told him to quit bitchin',
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F
and this isn't a fucking hotline
For a fucking shrink,
sheesh, I already got mine
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E
And he's not fucking working,
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C
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I think I'm wasting my damn time
I'm clocking three past
six and going postal
This the revenge of the dicks,
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C
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F
that's nine cocks that cock 9's
This ain't no V. Tech shit
or Columbine
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C
But after bowling, I went home
Em
Em
for some damn Adventure Time
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G
F
F
(What'd you do?) I slipped myself
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C
some pink Xannies (yeah)
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Bbm
C
C
And danced around the house
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in all-over print print panties
My mom's gone,
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C
that fucking broad will never understand me
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F
I'm not gay,
I just wanna boogie to some Marvin
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G
Ab
Ab
(What you think of Hayley Williams?) Fuck her,
Wolf Haley robbing them
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G
F#
F#
I'll crash that fucking airplane that
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F
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
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Bbm
C
C
I'm an over achiever,
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Bm
C
C
F
F
so how about I start a team of leaders
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C
And pick up Stevie Wonder
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to be the wide receiver
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C
Green paper,
gold teeth and pregnant golden retrievers
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F
All I want, fuck money, diamonds and bitches,
don't need 'em
But where the fat ones at? I got
something to feed 'em
It's some cooking books,
the black kids never wanted to read 'em
Snap back, green ch-ch-chia fucking
fucking fucking leaves
It's been a couple months,
and Tina still ain't perm her fucking weave, damn
Verse 5
F
F
Uh, Wolf Haley
Uh, Golf Wang
Uh, Wolf Haley
Em
Em
C
C
F
F
Golf Wang, yeah
Goddamn goblin
Wolf Haley
Uh, Golf Wang
Uh, Wolf Haley
Em
Em
C
C
Golf Wang, yeah
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F
Fm
Fm
F
F
Fm
Fm
F
F
They say success is the best revenge
Verse 6
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C
So I beat DeShay up with the stack
of magazines I'm in
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F
Oh, not again,
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G
another critic writing report
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D
G
G
Em
Em
I'm stabbing any blogging faggot
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F
hipster with a pitchfork
Still suicidal, I am
Em
Em
I'm Wolf, Tyler put this fuck
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Am
ing knife in my hand
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F
I'm Wolf,
Ace gon' put that fucking hole in my head
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E
And I'm Wolf,
Em
Em
that was me who shoved a cock in your bitch
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F
(What the fuck,
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C
F
F
man?) Fuck the fame and all the hype, G
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C
I just want to know if my
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Bm
G
G
father would ever like me
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F#
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F
But I don't give a fuck,
so he's probably just like me
A motherfuckin' goblin
(Fuck everything,
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E
Ab
Ab
man) That's what my conscience said
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F
Then it bunny hopped off my shoulder,
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F
now my conscience dead
Now the only guidance that I had
is splattered on cement
Actions speak louder than words,
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Eb
let me try this shit
Dead

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