Yonkers Song Lyrics

Uh, Wolf Haley, Golf Wang, go

I'm a fucking walking paradox
No, I'm not, threesomes with a fucking triceratops
Reptar, rapping as I'm mocking deaf rock stars
Wearing synthetic wigs made of Anwar's dreadlocks
Bedrock, harder than a motherfucking Flintstone
Making crack rocks outta pussy nigga fishbones
This nigga Jasper trying to get grown
About 5'7" of his bitches in my bedroom

Swallow the cinnamon, I'mma scribble this sin and shit
While Syd is telling me that she's been getting intimate with men
(Syd, shut the fuck up) here's the number to my therapist
(Shit) you tell him all your problems, he's fucking awesome with listening

Uh, Wolf Haley, uh, Golf Wang
Uh, Wolf Haley, Golf fucking Wang

Jesus called, he said he's sick of the disses
I told him to quit bitching, this isn't a fucking hotline
For a fucking shrink, sheesh, I already got mine
And he's not fucking working, I think I'm wasting my damn time
I'm clocking three past six and going postal