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HOT WIND BLOWS

Tyler, The Creator

Ladies and gentlemen
We just landed in Geneva
Yeah, that's in Switzerland
We on a yacht
A young lady just fed me French vanilla ice cream
We all got our toes out, too
Call me when you get lost

I'ma travel the globe, you keep the block hot
Driver, open the door for me, my hand hurts
Find us, we playin' hide-and-seek with the passports
Where the fuck we at? Oh, the pilot gotta remind us, yeah
The luggage is pilin', I needed clothes to wear
So many stinkies sit in my wallet, look like a folding chair (yeah)
The Cartier so light on my body, they thought I floated here
We boated here, it's Tunechi and Tyler but call me Baudelaire, yeah
Out in Switzerland, travel with my bitch again, we kissin' dawg
I love when she let me rub her like Michelin
A hundred grand to sleep on the bird, the wings are whistlin' like—
Man, they ain't listenin'

We crossed the line like immigrants and benefit from it
Keep on stuntin' on these niggas
Make 'em sick to their stomach, man (I can't stop it)
Y'all don't understand, fish so fresh that you could taste the sand
Yeah, we gettin' lost but we know who we am (true story)
Bada-bada-bada, some-some-somethin'
Treat that last part like you niggas ain't sayin' nothin'

(Are we?)
Yeah, haha
You see these excursions right here?
Just too lavish to post on the 'Gram (Gangsta Grillz)
Uh (Tunechi)

Excuse me, pardon me, the wind, it blow so hard to me
Like mother nature arguing about some baby father beefin’
I'm stuck in the middle of the sandwich like slaughter meat
Got my middle fingers to the cameras that's recording me
From y'all to me, brrt, stop callin' me unless you're ordering
I'm on the beach, I got my feet out, and I stay on my feet
The corner beat, I'm on a deep route, just throw the ball to me
Thought all this lean would have me senile, I guess they see now

Let's touch down, catch a beat-down like I catch touchdowns
I fuck 'round and slow the beat down and take the drums out
The speed of my plum so great, I'ma eat my own flow
And I'm in need of a flaw, may eat me a rapper
I might as well eat me a hoe (oh)
I'm hot as hell when the weather is freezin' the cold
As the devil and demon and ghost
I'ma get even and even, get even some more

It's too late to even get low, bow!
Wolf Gang, Wolf Gang, that's what I need you to know
Mula, Weezy the goat
The wind beneath my wings, Desert Eagle underneath my coat
Yeah, Mula (bitch)

(Are we?)
(On the boat, nigga)
You see
We just over here admirin' the view of the mountains from the lake
Of course
Y'all know it's Wolf Haley, man, stop fuckin' playin'

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