Paroles I hope you find your way home Tyler The Creator

I hope you find your way home

I hope you find your way home
I hope you find your way home
I hope you find your way home (Find your way home, find your way home, find your way home)
I hope you find your way home (Find your way home, find your way home, find your way home)

I'm slippin', I'm slippin', I'm slippin', I'm slippin', I need a hand
Can you squeeze the man? My shit spinnin', spinnin', spinnin', like a ceiling fan
No alcohol, no pill in hand
My only vice is them sweets and them wheels I spin
You better calm that down 'fore that nigga pop that round into your- will not be found
Hot, hot glue with my palm like, "Ooh," Spider-man Velcro, nigga, I'm not you, I—
Almost had a mini me, I wasn't ready
And she wanted it with me, I'm talkin' heavy
Then we had to guarantee, ain't no confetti
Four million on that car, that's not a Chevy
See, that's my interest, so as of now, raisin' a child is not on my wish list
Neither is bein' a safety net for bitches
I'm too selfish, contradiction (Ah)
Maybe I should before I'm too old and washed up like dishes (Washed)
Never bite tongue 'til the tooth sore
If you was gon' apologize, fuck you shoot for? Phew-phew
When I pop out, they say, "Ooh, Lord"
No Met Gala, but I'm everybody mood board
I did a whole collection, collection from Paris
They ain't even send me the collection to wear it
I'm so embarrassed, but happy that it happened
Fuck what you heard, I ain't coon, I ain't tappin'
Always some corn for you niggas who ain't cappin', haters
Always ride another nigga wave, you a sailor
You could never moonwalk in my Chuck Taylors, brodie
You niggas is jabronis
I'm from the city where they ran up in Saucony's
Thirty-one zeroes, shit thirsty, yuck
Bitch sue for a mil' tryna work me, settled at a mil' 'cause that mil' couldn't hurt me (Eugh)
It didn't hurt me (Eugh)
Nah, it ain't hurt shit (Eugh)
Sip the motherfuckin' water, did a backflip (Mm)
And if I shoot the club up, it's a Black bitch (Don't say that)
Hold the play by myself, I ain't pack shit (Eugh)
Yeah, eating candied yams and some catfish
Yeah, that rich, fuck what you heard, I'm that nigga and I'm that bitch

I hope you find your way home
Real shit, I'm proud of you
I'm proud of you, bro
Like, you just never cease to amaze me, like, you just— there's no words for how I feel
Do your thing, just keep, keep shinin'
(Run it, run it, run it back, run it back)
(Run it)
(The light comes from within)
I hope you find your way home
(Yeah, Chromakopia, Chromakopia)