Tyler, The Creator – HEAVEN TO ME Lyrics




My energy kinetic
The fitted hat by Ebbets

I like sugar
I like sweets
I don’t like the spicy eats
I need bridges in my beats
And Campana Brother seats
The heaven part for me is
Knowin’ I could wake up when I’m finished with my sleep
Ain’t no kids to feed
No stress I bleed
I don’t got a boss
I go wherever and don’t care about the cost
Gas money was stark for me
Now I got so many cars I could start up
We napping in parks
We in the sun getting darked up
Chilling with my suit on
Travel trunk is either Moynat leather or it’s Vuitton
Sipping mint tea like we know the tree the leaf fell from
We come from them tiki punch drinks
Had animosity for dinner, El Pollo Loco
That was in the past, now I parmesan my bolognese
Half a million drifting and the tire
Reading Toyo
Prefer the alligator logo on my cotton polo
Livin’ it up
My n***** is up
Ya’ll n***** is salty peanuts
We ain’t givin’ a fuck
Cause I’m blessed as hell and I ain’t next to jail
Ain’t got no psyche hiccups
Plus I dressthis well
My heaven 24/7
That’s heaven

That’s heaven to me
What’s heaven to you?

The lake water gettin’ warmer from the radiant sun
My baby momma and my daughter getting chased by my son
The water gun is in his arms
That lil n*gga could run
He get it from his daddy’s side, you know them Nigerians
My momma pull up in a helicopter
Sister in the kitchen cookin’, Jackson mixing vodka
After dinner I convince ‘em they should babysit ‘em
Me and wifey gettin’ ready to go see an opera
This the house we come to when we got nothing to do
The big yard, quaint size with an immaculate view
My boat dock got a yacht with a slide on the side
My son and I got some bikes we could ride
I’ll show him how to wheelie
And Wally hit my celly, we cleared another deally
There’s no contingency, the number’s in the hundred millys
I’m in my 40s lookin’ 20 something
I don’t ask for nothing
Everything is muah
That’s heaven for a god
My health is on a hundred
You feel me?

It used to be the Preme hat in the green
The cheetah print on the tee
The dark wash on the jean
Soccer mom with the Vans in every color it seems
Kick push down the block
Cuttin’ Dickies into shorts when it’s hot
Fucking Wendy’s up
Brainstorming ways to get our pennies up
Me and Jasper spending last bucks on the city bus
Wayne tapes and Vice mags and Portishead drops
Pegleg, Ice Cream shoes, the Mr. Krabs watch
That was heaven for me
Round time 17
Egging n***** houses, fucking girls from Pasadena
Bastard wasn’t finished, Iwas forming up a team
I didn’t have much but for certain I had a dream
Fuck it I bring it back like
The hairline was receding