What A Day Lyrics - Tyler The Creator

What A Day is a latest song sung by Tyler The Creator. The lyrics of this song written by  Tyler The Creator also.

What A Day Lyrics

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

What A Day Explanation