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letra de what a day (feat. westside gunn & mf doom) - tyler, the creator

intro: dj drama]
(what a day at the park) the estate sale
(what a day at the park)
(gangsta grillz)

[verse 1: tyler, the creator & dj drama]
yeah, 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 actin’ in
so many white diamonds, yеah, i got junglе fever
but thеy didn’t raise mе, so shout out black women
so much commentin’, 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 bellboy
i’m rarely replying to texts, barely enjoying the s-x
i got a pain in my chest, that’s from suppressin’ 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 sh-t 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 k!ll me if she knew the things i was desiring
suppressing it, get it out the way, i put the sirens in, yeah
[bridge: dj drama & westside gunn)
(what a day at the park)
(what a day at the park) don’t get it confused
(what a day at the park) you could never (ayo)

[verse 2: westside gunn]
ayo, everybody think they fly now, but ain’t n0body flyer (ah)
you ever cooked a half a brick in the air fryer? (ah)
shootin’ out the lambo truck ’til i was tired (brr, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
cases everywhere, burned a hole in the tire
made his whole face lock up, my sh-t fire (ah)
forties in the buffs, but today, i wore the wires (i wore the wires)
don’t talk too loud, lord, he got the wire (he got the wire)
china flea market apr-ns on, baggin’ china (ah)
n-ggas got the mike tyson bags and the spyders
call to yn, i need two n-ggas snipin’ (doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)
flygod, everybody wanna be like him
back of the ‘bach, but i still like to drive it (skrrt)

[bridge: westside gunn]
(what a day at the park) grrr, ayo! skrrt (ah)
(what a day at the park) ayo, ayo, ayo, ayo
(what a day at the park) g- grrrr, grrrr, grrr
(what a-)

[verse 3: mf doom]
tripping off the beat kinda, dripping off the meat grinder
heat niner, pimping, stripping, soft sweet minor
china was a neat signer, trouble with the script
digits double dipped, bubble lipped, subtle lisp midget
borderline schizo, sort of fine tits though
pour the wine, wh0re to grind, quarter to nine, let’s go
ever since ten eleven, glad she made a brethren
then it’s last down, seven alligator seven, at the gates of heaven
knocking, no answer, slow dancer
hopeless romancer, dopest flow stanzas
yes, no? villain
still back in the game like jack lalanne
think you know the name, don’t rack your brain
on a fast track to half insane
either in a slow beat or that the speed of “wrath of kane”
laughter, pain
hackthoo’ing songs lit, in the booth, with the best host
doing bong hits, on the roof, in the west coast
he’s at it again, mad at the pen
glad that we win, a tad fat, in a bad hat for men
grind the cinnamon, manhattan warmongers
you can find the villain in satin, congas
the van screeches
the old man preaches about the gold sand beaches
the cold hand reaches for the old tan ellesse’s
jesus
[break: dj drama]
(day at the park) i like to call that
(what a day at the park) oh my god

[verse 4: tyler, the creator]
yeah, i’m a dead poet (poet), tabletop stumpin’ (stumpin’)
i’m a free spirit, have the whole jail jumpin’ (jumpin’)
ever since a youngin’, moved at my pace (at my own)
scared of having youngins ’cause i like my sp-ce (yeah)
selfish ain’t the word (nope), regret ain’t either (nuh-uh)
before you get the huffin’ and the puffin’, take a breather (hah-hah-hah)
put yourself first if you’re livin’ with a dream (put yourself first)
be your biggest cheerleader, motherf-ck the team
one

- tyler the creator

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