Tyler, The Creator - Mars lyrics

Superbad, superbad, Tyler, The Creator's good
Hair nappier than paper
Towels roaming neighborhoods
Spitting racial slurs
Robbing hoods with a lightsaber
On a saber toothed tiger named Woods
"Where the fuck is Earl?" Not in
Jail that fucker's bailed out
Now he's in my basement and he's hungry
Bring the pail out
Ghostwriting at my gunpoint until I sell out
And buy a bunch of punch-flavored lip balm
While that nigga fucking yells out
"Fuck Wolf Gang, man you niggas is crazy"
Pop out with more homies than a Mexican baby
Triple sixes, bitches pissin'
Niggas spittin' like the fuckin' special ed
Epileptic, gettin' groovy with rabies
Pullback hats, leavе my cat warm
Hack and accidentally snap a
Couple bullet, gats, thorns
Twistеrs in a bullet, pull it, back torn
I don't give a goddamn, fuck shit, scat porn
Me and Justin Bieber watching Flapjack
As I get my jack flapped off by a cat stack
In the corner is a stack of cats dead
By the wolves from a quick game of kill
The pussy on the mattress
A couple doo doo mommas and some ratchets
And that's that 'preme hat
The same color of a cactus
Butt-kissing, smashing sluts all
Across the atlas
She said she lost her v-card so
I fucked her with a compass
Let's find it with my diginity
And let's try to find my
Fucking dad in the vicinity
And if we find him
A chance that we'll find her virginity
Helping Easter bunnies fix lights
On Jesus Christmas tree
Yeah, right (Dumbass bitch)
I fill Mac Miller with painkillers
Prance around his body in a
Dress as I play Thriller
Drink Miller, drunk drive to a bitch house
Fuck her raw
Catch AIDS just to prove that he ain't iller