Songtext What a day Tyler The Creator

What a day

What a day at the park
The Estate Sale
What a day at the park
Gangsta Grillz

I pulled up in that eighteenth letter repeat buggy
Had to switch the hue 'cause them LA boys smuggy
But more likely to get hurt by somebody who love me
My lady, she don't trust me, know I'm a sick puppy
Know that women throw themselves at me and men want me
Anything could happen for attention and rent money
I got so much on my plate, that's why I sit funny
So many hand-outs, so much back bending
So much entitlement my family be acting in
So many white diamonds, yeah, I got jungle fever
But they didn't raise me, so shout out black women
So much commenting, show me what you good at
Tell me the highs of the valley that your boots stood at
You couldn't fit in my loafers if you took a steroid
And I wouldn't handle your baggage if I had a bell boy
I'm rarely replying to texts, barely enjoying the sex
I got a pain in my chest, that's from suppressing the stress
Lionel, he know me the best
Told me I know the answer, but Clancy, he gave me the best advice that I heard in a sec'
I need to call me a jet, I need to pack me a bag
I need to get me a cabin, need some scrimmage in chess
I could've bought me some land, I went and flooded my neck
I say this shit with my chest, I am like one of the best (Greatest)
I am a workaholic and I need to get me some rest
I'd rather get these ideas off, I'd rather not steer off my path
I'm so scared of going back to my past
I work, I swear it's hard not shaking that fear off
White boy said I brag too much, the black kid said it's inspiring
Duality is tiring, my girl would kill me if she knew the things I was desiring
Suppressing it, get it out the way, I put the sirens in, yeah

What a day at the park
What a day at the park
What a day

Look, I don't fuck with parties, I don't fuck with the paparazzi
Never have I drove a Hellcat or a Maserati
Never needed others for my personal validation
She ain't getting touched if she cannot hold a conversation
Never had a bulky Richard Mille as a wristwatch
I never seen Amiri, never posted on TikTok
I never had desire for promethazine in a soda
Never made eye contact with a woman in Fashion Nova
Never had to fit in no lane
Never wore Beats By Dre headphones to get a video made, uh
Bunnyhop validated, pedaling
Hitting wheelies like Chris retaliated, just look around
Every opportunity allocated
I put so many niggas on, you thought DJ Khaled made it
From cold showers, I used to hate it
Now I'm spending fifteen for the new roof, it ain't renovated
I could see the ocean where I sleep and the house is gated
No Calabasas, I Brentwood it or Palisade it
The freckled girls articulating art got me salivating (I love it)
Wall is Henry Taylor with the trunks, I be playing Jenga
The last tour, dog, I cleaned house
They mad I made it, I'm so conceited
Feeling myself, ego masturbating, I graduated
After album five, I got syndicated, you want the old T?
Sorry G, that picture faded
Come get with me

What a day at the park (I like to call that)
What a day at the park (Oh my God)

Yeah
I'm a dead poet (Poet), tabletop stumping (Stumping)
I'm a free spirit, have the whole jail jumping (Jumping)
Ever since a youngin', moved at my pace (At my own)
Scared of having youngins 'cause I like my space (Yeah)
Selfish ain't the word (Nope), regret ain't either (Nuh-uh)
Before you get the huffing and the puffing, take a breather (Hah-hah-hah)
Put yourself first if you're living with a dream (Put yourself first)
Be your biggest cheerleader, motherfuck the team
One