Tyler, The Creator - HOT WIND BLOWS

Excuse me, pardon me, the wind, it blow so hard to me
Like mother nature arguing about some baby father beepin'
I'm stuck in the middle of the sandwich like slaughter meat
Got my middle fingers to the cameras that's recording me
From y'all to me, brrt, stop callin' me unless you're ordering
I'm on the beach, I got my feet out, and I stay on my feet
The corner beat, I'm on a deep route, just throw the ball to me
Thought all this lean will have me senile, I guess they see now