Lyrics of 'Garbage' by Tyler, The Creator

Garbage is a song by Tyler, The Creator whose lyrics have countless searches, so we decided it deserves its place on this website, along with many other song lyrics that internet users want to know.

If you've been searching for the lyrics of the song Garbage by Tyler, The Creator for a long time, start warming up your voice, because you won't be able to stop singing it.

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 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 die

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 die

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 crush your face
I'll leave you permanently blushing, blood
Nosebleed drugs, cook you in the oven

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