"Garbage" lyrics - TYLER, THE CREATOR

TYLER, THE CREATOR

"Garbage"

Hello I'm a salesman sorta giant
I sell Molly and Mary
And other various items
One time one guy came to where I'm residing
And I didn't invite him, so instead tryin' fight him
I got violent, long story short he's not breathin'
For some reason I liked it and it was really exciting
Couldn't stop the addiction, and the irony is
A couple junkies went missing
And I know right where they're hiding

Dope in the bag, pretty bitch on my side
I sell dope in the back, if you tryna get high

Do-Dope in my bag, pretty bitch on my side
I sell dope in the back, if you tryna die

Do-Dope in the bag, pretty bitch on my side
I sell dope in the back, if you tryna die

Do-Dope in the bag, pretty bitch on my side
I sell dope in the back, if you tryna get high

(Two Jobs)

Do-Dope in the bag, pretty bitch on my side
I sell dope in the back, if you tryna get high

Task force poured into my fortress
Found some lipstick, a couple corpses
Bitches was harmed and they couldn't reach the alarm
I'm ripping sockets out like I had fucking problems with arms
They found a couple portraits on the porch
But they don't check up under the floor
It's bodies and hotties and we was raging I'm gauging a shotty
Hit so many bitches I was pimpin' like Scotty
I'm a bull
Red
Piss me off
Like that lipstick position when she kissed me
So I bit 'em off, they was too soft
I'm a wolf and a designer mixing skin, cotton, leather and wool
And most people like flying kites, riding bikes in the woods
Baking cake 'cause it's good, I mean I would if I could
But I like playing dress up and mix match
Sorry I'mma fess up, you aren't getting your kids back

Dope in the bag, pretty bitch on my side
I sell dope in the back, if you tryna get high

Do-Dope in the bag, pretty bitch on my side
I sell dope in the back, if you tryna get high

What's in my trunk
White
Girl

You need a warrant, officer

You could say I kill 'em, if my product doesn't
Couple basement stairs where I drug them, down
It's pretty disgusting, finger crush your face
I'll leave you permanently blushing, blood
Nosebleed drugs, cook you in the oven

Yeah