Yonkers: accordi di
Tyler
Tyler
The Creator
The Creator

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

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