Yonkers Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Wolf Haley, Golf Wang
I'm f*ckin walkin paradox, no I'm not
Threesomes with a f*uckin triceratops
Reptar, rappin as I'm mocking deaf rockstars
Wearing synthetic wigs made of anwars, dreadlock
Bedrock, harder than a motha f-ckin Flintstone
Making crack rocks outta p*ssy nigga fishbone
This nigga Jasper tryna get grown,
Bout 5-7 of his bitches in my bedroom
Swallow the cinnamon, imma scribble this shit
And Sid has been tellin me she's been getting intimate with men
(Sid shut the f*ck up) here's the number to my therapist
Tell him all your problems
He's f-ckin awesome with listenin
[Verse 2]
Jesus called, he said he's sick of the disses
I told him to quit bitchin', this isn't a f-ckin' hotline
For a f-ckin' shrink, sheesh I already got mine
And he's not f-ckin' workin', I think I'm wastin' my damn time
I'm clockin' three past six and goin' postal
This the revenge of the dicks, that's nine cocks that cock
nines
This ain't no V Tech shit or Columbine
But after bowlin', I went home to some damn Adventure
Time
(What'd you do?) I slipped myself some pink Xanies
And danced around the house in all-over print panties
My mom's gone, that f*ckin' broad will never understand me
I'm not gay, I just wanna boogie to some Marvin
(What you think of Hayley Williams?)

F-ck her, Wolf Haley robbin' 'em
I'll crash that f-ckin' airplane at that faggot n-gga B.o.B is in And stab Bruno Mars in his goddamn esophagus
And won't stop until the cops come in
I'm an over achiever, so how 'bout I start a team of leaders
And pick up Stevie Wonder to be the wide receiver
Green paper, gold teeth and pregnant gold retrievers
All I want, f-ck money, diamonds and bitches, don't need 'em
But where the fat ones at, I got somethin' to feed 'em
In some cookin' books the black kids never wanted to read
'em
Snap back, green ch-ch-chia f-ckin' leaves
It's been a couple months, and Tina still ain't permed her
f*ckin' weave, damn

Wolf Haley, Golf Wang
[Verse 3]
They say success is the best revenge
So I beat DeShay up with the stack of magazines I'm in
Oh, not again, another critic writing report
I'm stabbing any blogging faggot hipster with a Pitchfork
Still suicidal? I am
I'm Wolf, Tyler put this f**king knife in my hand
I'm Wolf, Ace going to put that f**king hole in my head
And I'm Wolf, that was me who shoved a c**k in your bitch
(What the f**k, man?) f**k the fame and all the hype, G
I just want to know if my father would ever like me
But I don't give a f**k so he's probably just like me
A mothaf**king Goblin
(F**k everything, man) That's what my conscience said
Then it bunny hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience
dead
Now the only guidance that I had is splattered on cement
Actions speak louder than words, let me try this s**t, dead.

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