Bimmer
Tyler Feat. Frank Ocean Lyrics
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We can still dance, but I don't have no rhythm
So fucking take a chance with me
The party isn't over, we can still dance girl
But I don't have no rhythm
So fucking take a chance with a nigga
Like me, yeah, like me
Um, I said, the party isn't over
We can still dance, but I don't have no rhythm
So fucking take a chance with me
The party isn't over, we can still dance girl
But I don't have no rhythm
So fucking take a chance with a nigga
Like me, yeah, like me
Yeah, um
All I needed was a stick, grab the marshmallows
Mother fuckers getting lynched and burned
I earned it, my flog gnaw badge is looking good
On this brand new jacket
The donuts on the flag waving over the cabin
Now grab them graham crackers and pass them over here
Hurry, quickly I need a piece of Hersheys
Darker than the corners of the bushes we be lurking
I centered the mellow over the graham
Heated it too long now it's melting over my hand
Fuck it, I'll bite it, I burnt it, but I liked it
Camping with my niggas, its so fucking exciting
We're making smores by the campfire
Camp flog gnaw, golf wang summer
Sat by the fire, do witness gentle
Transformation cease to be mindless
Create your sweetness
You remind me of my Bimmer
A lot of trunk space, the perfect two seater
You got a lot of drive I'm trying to keep up
But it's not a lot of miles on ya meter
You remind me of my Bimmer
See your ignition, baby girl I'm trying to key up
And your head lights are off I'm trying to see 'em
But it's not a lot of miles on ya meter
So let me start it up and smash
Pop some tame impala, your man got a lame impala
And I'm sharing slurpees and you ain't even begin to swallow
You're fucking nuts, green top we coupled up
Run my fingers through em as you wax and buff my muffler
Cause I fingered you, you think the fucking ring is coming up?
Maybe, I don't know, I think you're chill
Riding on my pegs, and my back against your legs
And a seat belt is needed if I get between 'em, yeah
You remind me of my Bimmer
A lot of trunk space, the perfect two seater
You got a lot of drive I'm trying to keep up
But it's not a lot of miles on ya meter
You remind me of my Bimmer
See your ignition, baby girl I'm trying to key up
And your head lights are off I'm trying to see 'em
But it's not a lot of miles on ya meter
So let me start it up and smash
Mmmm, it'll get dark outside soon (ride for it)
Where the streetlights sing (ride for it)
(Ride for it)
You ain't gotta lie to kick it girl its cool
We moving slow
You remind me of my Bimmer
A lot of trunk space, the perfect two seater
You got a lot of drive I'm trying to keep up
But it's not a lot of miles on ya meter
You remind me of my Bimmer, smash
You remind me of my Bimmer
In the song "Bimmer" by Tyler, the Creator featuring Frank Ocean, the lyrics convey the message of the party not being over yet, even though Tyler admits that he has no rhythm. The song starts with Tyler inviting the girl to dance with him and take a chance. Tyler then switches to his summer experience at the Camp Flog Gnaw festival, where he and his friends make smores by the campfire. Tyler talks about his brand new jacket with his Flog Gnaw badge, and the donuts on the flag waving over the cabin. He tells the girl to pass him some graham crackers and Hershey's because he is excited about the whole experience.
The girl reminds Tyler of his Bimmer, which has a lot of trunk space but not many miles on the meter. Tyler wants to keep up with her drive and start something new with her. Tyler compares the girl's ignition to his Bimmer, saying he wants to key it up and start something new. The song then ends with Tyler admitting that it's getting dark outside soon, but they can still move slowly and enjoy each other's company.
Line by Line Meaning
Um, I said, the party isn't over
We can still dance, but I don't have no rhythm
So fucking take a chance with me
The party isn't over, we can still dance girl
But I don't have no rhythm
So fucking take a chance with a nigga
Like me, yeah, like me
All I needed was a stick, grab the marshmallows
Mother fuckers getting lynched and burned
I earned it, my flog gnaw badge is looking good
On this brand new jacket
The donuts on the flag waving over the cabin
Now grab them graham crackers and pass them over here
Hurry, quickly I need a piece of Hersheys
Darker than the corners of the bushes we be lurking
I centered the mellow over the graham
Heated it too long now it's melting over my hand
Fuck it, I'll bite it, I burnt it, but I liked it
Camping with my niggas, its so fucking exciting
We're making smores by the campfire
Camp flog gnaw, golf wang summer
Sat by the fire, do witness gentle
Transformation cease to be mindless
Create your sweetness
Mindfully observe the gentle transformation at the fire
Nurture your own sweetness
You remind me of my Bimmer
A lot of trunk space, the perfect two seater
You got a lot of drive I'm trying to keep up
But it's not a lot of miles on ya meter
You remind me of my Bimmer
See your ignition, baby girl I'm trying to key up
And your head lights are off I'm trying to see 'em
But it's not a lot of miles on ya meter
So let me start it up and smash
You resemble my car, with ample space and drive
I'm trying to keep up, but you have low mileage
Let me ignite you and make this happen
Pop some tame impala, your man got a lame impala
And I'm sharing slurpees and you ain't even begin to swallow
You're fucking nuts, green top we coupled up
Run my fingers through em as you wax and buff my muffler
Cause I fingered you, you think the fucking ring is coming up?
Maybe, I don't know, I think you're chill
Riding on my pegs, and my back against your legs
And a seat belt is needed if I get between 'em, yeah
Let's play Tame Impala and escape your boring man
I'm sharing my slurpee and you're enjoying it
You're crazy, and we're a match
Feel your soft hair as I touch you, alluding to marriage
Maybe in the future, I think you're cool
We're riding on my bike together, but safety first if we do more
Mmmm, it'll get dark outside soon (ride for it)
Where the streetlights sing (ride for it)
(Ride for it)
You ain't gotta lie to kick it girl its cool
We moving slow
Nightfall is approaching, let's ride for it
Enjoy the way the streetlights look
And you don't need to pretend, we're comfortable
We're taking our time
You remind me of my Bimmer
A lot of trunk space, the perfect two seater
You got a lot of drive I'm trying to keep up
But it's not a lot of miles on ya meter
You remind me of my Bimmer, smash
You remind me of my Bimmer
You resemble my high-performance car
Plenty of space, with low mileage
Let's make it happen, you're just like my car
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Written by: Tyler Okonma
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
@yannikessex1384
I would love to hear a Tyler and frank album ..we need that in this lifetime
@youngboi7293
yannik essex lowkey flower boy
@Mars-hd7hg
tyler & frank & kali 😍
@sheriffaboubakar9720
Frank was only on 2 songs on FB
@user-dm6os1ub7g
yannik essex
I don't think a homophobe like Tyler would do that
@derekspaeth6854
ρυηρυη Tyler has said a couple times that frank is one of his best friend's and that he doesn't care about his sexuality
@jonahdavis7833
Frank's harmonies are not from this world
@playboikirby8173
i say that all the time
@dremcqueen2181
Jonah Davis ikr like the fuck man so jealous
@homogenicmp3
ikr