Tyler, The Creator - SIR BAUDELAIRE Lyrics

The sun beamin'
Y'all ready?
Ayo (DJ the father)
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, jet fuel scented vest
Swim trunks in the trunk, Geneva water the best (the best)
The passport lookin' thick, the afro need a pick
My skin soak up the sun, ain't shakin' hands with you bums (nah)
Bunny hopper, 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, huh (Gangsta Grillz)
Cool peach cobbler, dude, spit like a llama do
Used to be reckless, used to see what them commas do
New le Fleur season, summer time 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 airs
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 sun seekers (we got them bikes on the tarmacs)
Welcome to the disco (hittin' wheelies and shit)
Call me if you get lost (perfume on the skin, ha)
Hahaha

Call me if you want
See, while y'all was in the house (call me if you want)
We was takin' Rolls Royces to go see alligators
DJ Drama, man (call me if you want)
Travelin' the world
Passport stamped up up
It's Tyler Baudelaire, nigga