Cowboy
Tyler, the Creator
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Knock knock motherfucks it's me Mr. Clusterfuck What, when, where, how, like who gives a f*ck Golf Wang M-O-B, mopping niggas ante up Ain't been this fucking sick since brain cancer ate my Granny up Rest in peace, her lying it, life ain't got no light in it Darker than that closet that nigga Frankie was hiding in Open it, dope in it, Bobby where's my fucking pipe? Address my little dick as Ike, twenty says I hit your wife This is life, truthfully I just want to fly some kites Grab Salem and Slater and go around, riding bikes Get some ice cream, Golf Wang rascals toward the night To skate around and do annoying shit that older peeps despise F*ck it though, going hard as riga mo Got a nigga dollars and a couple cracker kids at shows Cracked a couple kids in the head with this cast Had a blast out in Europe, had a Swedish bitch lickin' toes That's how it goes, designing clothes, cats on everything, cats on everything You think all this money will make a happy me? But I'm 'bout as lonely as crackers that supermodels eat Everybody's sparking it but me and I keep coughing Can't keep calm in this hot box and I get nauseous Hop in the car and write a song as I'm heading straight to the office Pissed off at Jasper because that's some faggot shit called "Pink Dolphin" I roll here on a mean unicorn Green hat, Vans, Golf top is the team uniform Downin' that Capri Sun, tighten my bandana up Something like a les, I'm forgetting my damn manners 'cause I am the cowboy on my own trip And I am the cowboy on my own trip And I am the cowboy on my own trip And I am the cowboy When you're alone thoughts start coming in Punching in that dark lock box and they start rummaging Shit you've got to battle with, wishing they could skedaddle But it makes your shadow say none, fun and grab the gun again I needed to get out of the house So I hit the Dead Sams, and we went biking it out In a black hoodie, with an Arizona and a bag of Skittles Just to see what all that fucking hype is about Now everytime you see a roach you think of me, ay? 'Cause everytime I see one I think what his parents would say In court saying I ate him, I wasn't present that day I was with Whitney smoking, sitting at the dock of the bay I am the cowboy on my own trip And I am the cowboy on my own trip And I am the cowboy on my own trip And I am the cowboy Do you know how weird it is knowing I make a bunch of cheese While my friends can't afford little pizzas from Little Caesars And their whole goal is to roll up and smoke bowls So I don't feel bad when they not eating (But you still treating us you punk bitch) Wolf Haley got more methods than Pinkman I'm never civil F*ck Lincoln Preme out the bag it's no wrinkles I'm okie dokie and loopy And booboo nana and caca If you think I'm fucking cuckoo Try talking to my shrink then Hey Bitch I'm right here Yo who's that? That's Salem That's my girlfriend Stay the f*ck away from her alright? I am the cowboy on my own trip And I am the cowboy on my own trip And I am the cowboy on my own trip And I am the cowboy
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Written by: Tyler Okonma
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"Cowboy Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 25 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/29158657/Tyler%2C+the+Creator/Cowboy>.
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