ft schoolboy q mac miller - gees (ft. schoolboy q) - mac miller lyrics
[verse 1: mac miller]
ig’nant–ss white kid
but i’m still bicycling and recycling
and i’m still eating gummy bear vitamins
all my b-tches taking vicodin, huffing nitrogen
hyper than williams’ middle son, since i was
a little one, moms had to put me on the ritalin
made a swisher run, crack the 40 then i lit a blunt
told chuck i had a couple raps, so we kicked the drums
all the best rappers are usually dead
but i’m the poison that left a widow juliet
in the studio with candles lit and buddha heads
coming up with all the coldest sh-t, take your sudafed
contagious, speaking while sedated
god sh-t, make ’em want to add a couple pages to the bible
i ain’t got nothing left in my will ‘cept
throw it all in the casket, it’s mine still
i need some backpack cast raps
took a break just to kill the game half–ss
set some rat traps, went to take a cat nap, woke up
through the dead bodies in the trash bags
act polite, but i’m nasty on the mic
your b-tch don’t want my d-ck, then she has to be a dyk-
slap it but she like, tell me “master, feed my pipe”
i’m the scotch on the rocks, you the appletini type
b-tch
[hook: mac miller]
suck my d-ck before i slap you with it
gees…
suck my d-ck before i slap you with it
gees…
[verse 2: mac miller]
still f-cking with these hoes, though
ozo on these doppelganger jojos
take a b-tch to soho for some froyo
tell her she gone blow it, romo
and now i’m out in cali like tone-låc
young boy, but i’m chilling with some grown folk
no joke, most dope, you just bold smoke
how much c-ke you got to sell to make a boat float?
hit ’em, hit ’em ’til they tell me “no more”
i’m a highly difficult ropes course
pulling up to rome on a chrome gold horse
say “what’s up?” to the pope, pull off in a porsche
who you kidding? your flow’s worshed
i ain’t from the street but i grow you from the porch
i been had hoes, i play sports
her -ss out the bottom of her shorts
[hook: mac miller]
[verse 3: schoolboy q]
black james bond in a white shaft
turned my daughter to a queen, turned a dollar to a dream
flashy as high beams, smoking on good weed
something from… the only strand to smoke for us ogs
i’m rich, car service, no car keys
first cl-ss flight, ’bout to l-sso a new b-tch
she f-ck me and swallowed every homie i came with
mcm bag and n-gg-, bet some weed in it
200 dollars worth of backwoods, we all living
brought the gangsters back to bucket hat, how real is that?
i’m getting money, rub my tummy, that’s my baller sack
put a million in a safe in case i get a case
f-ggot–ss judge hating on me cause my money straight
dropped 10 racks in all 50 states
gone name my next tour millionaire march
make a nun throw it back while i pull her scarf
she gave me head, my nuts touched her cross, boss
[outro: mac miller]
suck my d-ck before i slap you with it…
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