Tyler, The Creator I Hope You Find Your Way Home Lyrics

"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)

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