TYLER, THE CREATOR

Freestyle of “HEY NOW” by Kenny

Director: Tyler Okonma
DP: Luis “Panch” Perez
Production: Happy Place
Editor: Steve Forner
Hair: Nena (Ladysoulfly) / Ronnie McCoy III
Clothing: Le FLEUR*
Location: Hawthorne, CA

“Our lives really ran through these roads.” – Big Cam

Lyrics:

Hey now, say now, I’m all about them bands.
Shit I’m on, bitch, you wouldn’t understand.
Hey now, say now, I’m all about my guap.
AP, Richie—hmm, not on my watch.

Brodie said don’t even press the issue.
Yellow boogers in my earlobe, I need a tissue.
OH MY GOD, I’M REALLY THAT GUY.
Yeah, bitch, I’m outside.

LaFerrari popping on the 405.
One ticket, two ticket, three ticket—four million.
Put that lil’ Maybach truck in the garage.
Lil’ bunny hop out, you seen me at the pop-out.

Pandemonium screaming like they brought Pac out.
Stop it with the chit-chat, we airing out the kickback.
Big stud energy—the way I get my lick back.
Hey now, say now, I’m all about my bands.

Shit I’m on, bitch, you wouldn’t understand.

I’m the suspect, baby, I don’t play victim.
I’ll buy that nigga building just to evict him.
What that Coachella pay like? It was eight figures.
Why don’t I fuck with them guys? Cause I hate niggas.

OH MY GOD, I’M REALLY THAT GUY.

I got my Chuck Taylors on, but they look like loafers.
I ain’t sitting with you niggas—fuck I look like, Oprah?
Rather put ‘em in the ground, you niggas look like gophers.
Open doors for my niggas, bitch, I look like a chauffeur.

Rip the ruler, keep it sewer.
Stack the mula, mind ya business, eat the cooter.
OH MY GOD, I’M REALLY THAT—

I was up at Westchester, dodging all the high beams.
Gardena swap meet, shopping bogus ice cream.
I’m a Hawthorne baby, shit is not warm, baby.
Four or five main bitches—I am not yours, baby.

All these women is a habit.
Boyfriends mad cause they thought I was a—HEY NOW.
Hey now, say now, get sticky like a hun bun.
You will never be the main guy, you’re a plus one.

300K in four days, Chromakopia.
Twelve days gold, I ain’t even drop deluxe one.
Sold a million tickets first day for that new stage.
Want smoke? We can puff one.

One whip, two whips.
Black bitch, blue strips.
Green face, Grinch—Tyler on his Dr. Seuss shit.
True shit, I can put a number where ya roof is.

Paranoid, cause niggas beef curtains, they got loose lips.
OH MY GOD, I’M REALLY THAT GUY.

Hand claps? Congrats? Never said to me.
Put him on a Pro Club, that nigga dead to me.
Stop with that fake shit.
Le FLEUR* got me fitted in my best.

If you got a problem with me, nigga, get it off your chest.
Get it off your chest.
I am not a tough guy, nigga, get it off your chest.
I’m the type to bust on her and just lick it off her breast.

I’m a freak.
I don’t beef.
It’s a bird, it’s a plane—bitch, it’s T.
Cutting niggas off—want the rope? Iight, come get it.

You don’t love me, you love the optics that come with it.