TYLER THE CREATOR - Garbage lyrics

rate me

Hello, I'm a salesman sort of a 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 tried to fight him

I got violent, long story short he's not breathing

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 the side

I sell dope in the back if you tryna get high

Dope in the bag, pretty bitch on the side

I sell dope in the back if you tryna get high

Dope in the bag, pretty bitch on the side

I sell dope in the back if you tryna get high

Dope in the bag, pretty bitch on the side

I sell dope in the back if you tryna get high

Dope in the bag, pretty bitch on the 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 pimping 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 its 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 the side

I sell dope in the back if you tryna get high

Dope in the bag, pretty bitch on the side

I sell dope in the back if you tryna get high

Dope in the bag, pretty bitch on the side

I sell dope in the back if you tryna get high

Dope in the bag, pretty bitch on the side

I sell dope in the back if you tryna get high

What's in my trunk?

White, girl

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 ‘cross your face

I'll leave you permanently blushing, blood

Nosebleed drugs, cook you in the oven, yeah