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[Intro] Uh, Chya, Uh, Uh Dedicated too, this dedicated too F-ck it [Verse 1: Mac Miller] Uh, I got a pocket full of posies Some devil with a pitchfork keep talkin' like he know me I'm psychopathic, low key, my hyperactive dome piece Get no sleep, ill as fuck, the hospitals seem so weak I stood before an Angel as he told me bout the glory Put me in a room of people, how the fuck could I be lonely I only get money, these lables tryna clone me Uh, my thoughts get heavy, hit the ground and crack the concrete So, I try to keep em' in my head It's sad to see when everything that you believe is dead Life is good sometimes, but it just doesn't last A bunch of tracks, you see this mic is like my punchin' bag Rock n' Roll, drugs and cash, you softer than a bubble bath Sucka ass mothafucka, muthafucka's venom and Doper than the shit that put Chris Tucker in Dead Presidents Desert rhymes, homie, ridin' beats, I'm on a camel I'm way too hot to handle, life a beach, I brought my sandals Haha, you want a war ? I got a lot of ammo You ain't a soldier cause you rockin' cammo SongtexteYoung Rambo, hundred million fans though And I do it big, you a Ipod Nano Fire on wax, look like I rock candles Yeah you got a show, but you ain't on my channel That's HBO b!tch, you gotta pay for that Hahaha, your channels free I'm gunna f-ckin' kill you Um, Imax'n shit motherf-cker Yeah, suck my d!ck [Verse 2: Mac Miller] Hey, ayo, I'm bout to start gambilin' with Ambien I'm dutch smokin', that's a strike But f-ck bowlin', I could tear a pin of Maryland See, I'm American, apparently it's damagin' To be in front of cameras in your underwear with Marilyn Monroe, look at dumb hoes who want to much dough Don't rock the love boat, this business f-ckin' cut throat And it's gunna crack is you just paint the wall with one coat Rooms filled with blunt smoke, peep me through the fog These rappers who be hatin' probably need to get a job I know a couple hoes who model, but they ugly though F-ck a toast, y'all is f-ckin' broke, cut ya throat Judgin' me is nothin' dope, boy you lyin' under oath God made the world, why did man make the scriptures? And if he created Lennon, why'd he go and make a Hitler? I could take a photo, but I'd rather paint a picture Of the one Lawrence Fishburne, we'll shoot up all you hipsters I'm from Pittsburgh, that's black and gold If my skin gets filled up, I'mma tat my soul Runnin' out of paper, writin' on my hand Hundred thousand haters writin' bout my jams Want a number one independent album? I'm your man I'mma hit Preme and leave you all right where you stand Aus Songtexte Mania