Super Market lyrics

by

Tyler, The Creator


[Intro: Syd]
Hi, welcome to f*ckey Foods. Umm, this lane is open if, if you need, if you to check out. Uhh, you're buying uh, donuts and a pack of Diet Pepsi? Sweet, okay makes sense

[Tyler]
In this f*cking line at Ralph's buying granola bars
Left my member's card
And now this sh*t gon' have an extra charge
This old b*tch in front of me buying a color printer
TV dinners, tampons, soy milk, paint thinner

[Domo]
So here I am at the store for some chips
That I'mma pay for with dimes, nickels and quarters and sh*t
And I'm still high, so I'm tryna dip
But I'mma cut through the line to get outta this b*tch

[Tyler]
What the f*ck, who the f*ck's this gay n*gga in fake Gucci?
Jordan numbers, whatever, wood chain with a Jesus
Hey you, what the f*ck you think you doing?

[Domo]
n*gga, f*ck you, I'm just eating Ruffles and gotta lotta stuff, fool
So, why don't you f*cking wipe that stupid look on your face

[Tyler]
Don't make me shoot up this place with lightsabers and guns
And shoot caps at kneecaps to make it harder to run
And put your ankles in some boards and p*ssy water for fun, ugh
[Domo]
n*gga, I'm a samurai, cut your skinny ass in half
Look up at the aftermath, blow some f*cking hash and laugh

[Tyler]
I'm a f*cking ninja and a jedi and I'm from Compton
Better pick a better option 'fore these Nikes get to stomping
Chomping at your oxygen cords, you fat fake Kenan Thompson
Like a virgin, cherry faggot, we could get it poppin'

[Domo]
I bet you lock and drop it, faggot b*tch, you ain't from Compton
Dumbo ears, you Mary Poppins, with the piece that Kel was rockin
I will f*cking beat your ass, box logos through the glass
I'll hit you hooky like you skipping class, Lee would get the math

[Tyler]
Oh, really? You're silly giving tip drills to Nelly
Get them Ruffles no Lays cause Kiara might kill me
Aw, f*ck this! I'm grabbing two kitchen knives
And stabbing this Ice Cube look-a-like
To show you a n*gga with attitude

[Domo]
Wait, I heard about you from that other n*gga Earl
How you traveled to Milan and now it only likes girls
I'll roundhouse you into a f*cking basket
Push you into an old lady bagging plastic
Hope you get the message, I will stomp you into potholes
And fill you up with shells, but you're used to eating tacos
[Tyler]
Oh, a Taco joke?
Domo smoke, I heard your album
Sound like some sh*t a fake Wiz Khalifa poppa wrote
I'm insulted, sh*t, damn, somebody grab the Charmin
Never mind these messages, Monica her n*gga arming

[Domo]
Swift-made switch blades made a big incision in him
Red dot his forehead ‘cause Riley's into Hinduism
And hipsters who happen to be your listeners
Doobies roll your booty, ho, Alexis know the truthy, bro

[Tyler]
Oh, a Lexus? I drive all that around
The western hemisphere like all of Kiara's exes
And bet this, I'm a mothaf*ckin' monster
f*ck talking, I'll stab you with this f*cking rocket launcher

[Domo]
When I c*ck the beam back, I'm aiming for Supreme hats
Go to Hell, I mean that, burn you like greenbacks

[Tyler]
You don't mean that, you faggot, I'll get your back
And I'll snap it, and strangle you with that f*cking leather jacket
Fall, b*tch, give me everything, I'm taking all this
And fleeing the scene on Rufus, my evil walrus, b*tch
f*ck you, I'm out
[Domo]
I'm high as f*ck and I didn't call for all this
I'mma get on my zombie sh*t, wait, here's my carcass

[Outro: Syd]
Sir... sir... sir, in the green hat, sir. You... you... you have to pay for that. You have to, the Arizonas, you have to pay for those. I f*cking hate this job... f*ck, clean up on aisle six
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