Lyrics Tron Cat - Tyler, The Creator

Tron Cat

Satan’s gettin jealous of the wolves, demons said they preferrin' us
Books I’m not givin' a fuck, what they referrin' us
Wolves, I know you heard of us, we murderers
And young enough to get the fuckin' priest to come and flirt with us
You niggas rap about fuckin' bitches and gettin' head
Instead I rap about fuckin' bitches and gettin' heads
While you niggas stackin bread, I could stack a couple dead
Bodies, make it?
look like less of a color, more of a hobby
I’m not a rapper, nor a rapist, nor a racist
I fuck bitches with no commission, they tend to hate shit
Brag about the actions and I wind up?
And proceed to sat her down when I go splatterin' her chatterbox
Atta boy, Odd Future you’re not in my categor-
This the type of shit that make a Chris Brown wanna kick a whore
Then make songs about?
'cuz when it rains, it pours
I hate this, screamin «Fuck Patience!»
Got a nigga shakin like a?
fuckin' Haitian
After chronic masturbation, askin' where Mary Kate went
I wanna be the reason why all lesbians hate dick
I make this?
wait for the?
Game of duct, duct, duct tape with a dead goose
She run around this mothafuckin' dungeon, her legs loose
Until I accidentally get this saw to her head, oops
Victim, victim, honey you’re my fifth one
Honey you’re?
when I stuff you in my system
Rape a pregnant bitch and tell my friends I had a threesome
You got a fuckin' death wish, I’m a genie, it’ll get done
Nice to meet ya, but it’s more pleasant to eat ya
With a leaf and salad and some dressing pourin' out her teacup
Bitch, I’m Tyler The Creature, suck ya feet up like a leecher
?
more than the fuckin' bottom of a sneaker
Jeeper the fuckin' Creeper, get ya daughter and keep her
In the Jeep where the Wolf Gang rides around deeper
Take her to?
now she standin' there embarassed
Filled with terror, chop her legs off and tell her to run some errands
Put her eyes in a canteen, take her to the Berrics
?
Steve say it cost too much?
Put her in the lake, her (Laker), body seems great
Now it’s time to fish her, (Fisher), like Derek
Satan’s us, we’re dangerous
Tradin' kids for angel dust