Lyrics Dear Tyler - Bizarre

Dear Tyler

Dear Tyler, I heard about your situation
I was in San Francisco stuck on vacation
Is it true you came out the closet?
I ain’t gonna knock you man, matter of fact I’m gonna applaud it
Now you and Frank Ocean can share a bottle of lotion
Get in a hot tub and make a love potion
I was on the internet like, what the fuck?
Tyler the Creator talking about Eminem’s album sucked
Marshall said, «Let him live man, he only a kid»
Fuck that, fly to California and find out where he lives
I admit, I’ve been wanting to diss you for a while
Ever since you stole my whole fucking style
Now Royce tapped you, I’m about to smack you
Kidnap you and let King Gordy get at you
It’s Lars bitch, I got bars bitch
Trust me, you don’t wanna start shit
The rest of the world thought y’all was better than us
Bitch we D12, ain’t nobody better than us
We don’t hook with y’all niggas, we write the book on y’all niggas
Promoters Promoters don’t book us with y’all niggas
Hold on, that bitch got a fat ass
(Hey, stop the music)
Damn hey mama, you working?
She got a fat ass
Look at that bitch
Shit, Tyler ain’t looking
Put him in the frying pan, get back to cooking
Or should I say pause, he ain’t got no balls
White T-shirt and some leopard skin drawers
First video this nigga was eating a roach
Nowadays, he got other shit down his throat
His fans will say Bizarre’s only bitter
Tyler’s sick but Bizarre’s a little sicker
Fuck what he say, this nigga’s gay
Hit his dyke DJ with an instant replay
Tie your ass up and feed you noodles
Since you’re sucking dick, give some head to my poodle
I mean this nigga’s like Ving Rhames in Pulp Fiction
Apple on his mouth, he’s got a sex addiction
Somebody get me out the studio now
Bizarre’s going crazy