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Artist/Band: Tyler The Creator
Lyrics for Song: Bastard
Lyrics for Album: Bastard [2009]



This is what the devil plays before he goes to sleep

Some food for thought some food for death, go 'head and fuckin' eat

My father's dead well I don't know, we'll never fuckin' meet

I cut my wrist and play piano cause I'm so depressed

Somebody call the pastor, this bastard is so posessed

This meetin' just begun, nigga I'm Satan's son



My mother raised me a single parent so it's apparent

That I got love for my mother, none of you other fuckas

Are much important I'm gettin' angrier while recordin'

I'm feelin' like the Bulls, I've got a Gang of Wolves

Odd Future is children that's fucked up on they mental

Simple but probably not, fuck 'em



I'm tall, dark, skinny, my ears are big as fuck

Drunk white girls the only way I'll get my dick sucked

Suspended from school coolest nigga without effort

Easy to spot like black bitches with fake leopard

Soak me up in a tampon, but keep the lamp on

Cause this album packs enough evil

That you can't fit inside a jansport, go to school with this



I go from AP to JC inside of fuckin' week

Wakin' up with random girls like "Yo, bitch, how the fuck we meet?"

I stay with grandma, she always bitchin' about her carpet

Every time I walk inside the house, she always tend to start shit

No to drugs I never spark it, I used to be bullied for honour classes

By those slow as molasses, take this shit to school



Raquel treat me like my father like a fuckin' stranger

She still don't know I made Sarah to strangle her

Not put her in danger and chop her up in the back of a Wrangler

All because she said no to homecomin', demons runnin'

Inside my head tellin' me evil thoughts

I'm the dream catcher but nothin' but nightmares I caught, go to sleep



I wear green hats because I'm fortunately lucky

Fuck me the monster said, some how the monster's dead

Inside of me, but the thoughts it tells me are still evil

With this state of mind, big moves, Max Keeble

I'm on my grind feeble, my music is evil

My fuckin' samples are too illegal, play this shit in church



I graduated without honors or a fuckin' father

He died, no bitch, don't even fuckin' bother

I wanted a brother my mother I told her

But instead I got a sister, just like me with her mister nada

So both of our imaginations are creations of the fuckin' situation

That's havin' our brains racin' like Dayton, wearin' some fuckin' heelies



I know you fuckin' feel me, I want to fuckin' kill me

But times I'm so serious you think I'm silly

I'm doin' Big Style Willy couldn't touch 11

Seven. What's religion nigga? I am Legend

I roll with skaters and musicians with an intuition

I created O.F. cause I feel we're more talented

Than 40 year old rappers talkin' 'bout Gucci

When they have kids they haven't seen in years, impressin' their peers

With the same problem, the only way to solve them

Is to go to Father's Day convention with a gold revolver

Life's a salad I'mma toss it eat that shit up, Rick Ross it

Shit it out, bag it up sell it, I'm so damn rebellious

Cause my mother let me do what I want

She wasn't careless, protective she is the bear

The shit is so bare, my diary isn't hid

My father didn't give a fuck, so it's somethin' I inherit

My mom's all I have so it's never meet the parents

When Danielle or Malonda decide to fuckin' share

This confused boy, I wanna hug all ya, I'm bad for you kids to listen to

Soy is not the choice, I'm bad milk, drink it



My wrist is all red from the cutter

Drippin' cold blood like the winter, the summer

Is never that's equivalent to me and Sarah

Well that's not her fuckin name, but I think this shit is clever

My niggas wanna know if I'm fuckin', if I'm kissin'

But I'm sittin' here downin' beers simply just wishin'

With tear they try to tell me but I never listen

Cause I don't give a shit like sittin' down pissin'

Eighteen, still talkin' to imaginaries

Hopefully they see the talent I carry just like Jimmy

Losers can never win me, you can never offend me

My goal in life is a Grammy, hopefully momma will attend the

Ceremony with all my homies, I'm suicidal

This my Zombie Circus, I hope the majors heard this

Fuck a deal, I just want my father's email

So I can tell him how much I fuckin' hate him in detail


Album Lyrics: Bastard [2009]


Tyler The Creator
"Bastard [2009]"


1. Bastard
2. Seven
3. Odd Toddlers
4. French!
5. Blow
6. Pigs Fly
7. Parade
8. Slow It Down
9. Assmilk
10. VCR / Wheels
11. Session
12. Sarah
13. Jack And The Beanstalk
14. Tina
15. Inglorious
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