Lyrics Tyler, the Creator

Tyler, the Creator

Cowboy

Knock-knock, mothafuck it's me, Mr. Clusterfuck

What, when, where, how, like who gives a fuck

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, or lie in 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?

Dress 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 Roscoe's for the night

To skate around and do annoying shit that older peeps despise

Nigga fuck 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 Europe, had a Swedish bitch licking 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 but me, and I keep coughing

Can't keep calm in this spot's hot box and I'm getting nauseous

Hop in the car, ride to Saugus, and head 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

Downing that Capri Sun, tighten my bandana up

Something like a lez, 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 Sam's, 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, fuck 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 koo-koo, try talking to my shrink then

– Hey

– Bitch

– I'm right here

– Yo, who's that?

– That's Salem, that's my girlfriend, you stay the fuck 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