Tyler The Creator – OKRA

Tell Tim Chalamet to come get at me, skin glowin’, clear of acne
Fuck these niggas man (run it)
(I ain’t fuckin’ with none of these niggas, man)
Uno the shoe, red with the blue
Handmade is that thing with tires but I rode the bike
Got enough rocks, see, check my hand
I stick to the plan, that’s the goal
Like Ron Artest bitch we aim for your neck
[Verse 1]
We aim at dorks, get out the way, yo
Interior look mango, shotgun grape, he look like mayo
And Vill tail behind me
Yeah, I cut off some friends T, where you been?
[Verse 3]

Give a fuck about you or your respect, yeah that way
And let it go (Ayo)
Financial advisor buggin’, Flower Boy is buzzin’
Watts Riot in my blood, nigga what’s up
Pockets gainin’ weight
Fuck these niggas man, that’s for sure (say)
Grammy-nominated, tell yo cousin ain’t nobody fuckin’ with him
(Now we never fuckin’ stop)
Swampy niggas out the bayou, pockets flooded y’all be dilute
Fuck your accolades but I made the cut like I pack a blade
I cut off some friends, where they go

I cut off some friends
Lemonade, yeah it’s Minute Maid, I been gettin’ paid
Your bank statements on Mary Kate, but that’s up to you
Paintjob look like ashy ankles on Django
Bitch you’re a bum, see you don’t understand
(Did this shit in one take, ayo)
But, I really do not care the cost ’cause okra
Man fuck with the fam, we in Japan
Red Ones look like Aidan Mackey, spent dinero like Taxi Driver
You could call me brush, I’ve been makin’ waves
Fuck these (ayo) niggas man, that’s for sure (ayo)
Check my bankroll, ayo 400K for vehicle
Golden voice on payroll, neck all gold like Kayo Corp
I stick to the plan, that’s the goal
I cut off some friends, where they go
[Verse 2]
He will go grab the iron and he do what I says like Simon
Watered down, I’m Big Mac, I’m quarter pound, you chicken nugget
Wallace still trippin’ on shit that I bought
And it’s still Wolf Gang, bitch, watch how I bark
(Yeah, give these niggas information nigga)
And he got the Cannon like he bagged Mariah
Bitch I’m in Bel-Air, been lookin’ for land

Need a spot in the hills, not the beach, need a pool
Fuck it, travel bag Balenciaga, 30,000 just for luggage
And that pussy pink like the drink in my cup
I cut off some friends, where they go
Golf be the set, no more OF

I stick to the plan, that’s the goal (ayy we got that 5 shit nigga)
Diamonds see-through, so holographic
Yeah, we straight but if you wrinkle up the situation
Look like a flag what the fuck it do
And my bitch mixed like jambalaya
Since Ashley Banks’ cousin had a fade but that’s ’92, I’m ’91
Just to cool it, I do need the grass, not the sand
Man, now they go
Keep them bucks in banks like Yayo
Man, now they go

And I got crack, watch how I talk
Man, now they go