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mac miller - bob’s dementia lyrics

[intro: mac miller]
bob’s dementia
chapter one
now here lies a great man, a man of the people
a man of the people, people (yeah, oh)

[verse 1: mac miller]
yeah, here he comes, it’s the highly unprofessional
hyper s+xual, intellectual
fried my brain, now i’ve become a vegetable
travel with a gang of weird lookin’ extraterrestrials (mi+mi+mi+mi)
they left me on their ship and made their b+tches call me “general”
the d+ck quake could make a b+tch shake like she got parkinson’s
you out there politickin’, i’m studyin’ darwinism (god)
i keep some bars and hit ’em like a hard collision (bang)
don’t f+ck around it’s murder in this art exhibit
and i got the whole game on paralyzed ’cause my volume on amplified
it’s slow as a biracial b+tch that’s waitin’ on her hair to dry (i don’t wanna go yet)
are you prepared to die? burnin’ this ameri+fry
where people that protect you are the ones that have you terrified
i only act this way ’cause my soul so broken
i’m the illest that you know, you a low dose motrin
laryngitis, hepatitis, the aids virus
i guess that’s what you get from bein’ ’round a bunch of rap v+g+n+s
and you (and you), you p+ssy i wouldn’t f+ck with, a drunk d+ck
the day i came back from being hostage to the russian mob
missin’ a finger and see my brother shot (pa+pa+pa+pa+pa+pa+pa)
i’m comin’ for your neck, so hide your head inside your mother’s box (motherf+cker)
it still ain’t cliche to say, “f+ck the cops” (no)
let’s try it (“f+ck the cops”)
’cause i just smoked a bunch of rocks and walked around in just my socks
and made myself a birthday cake with caramel and b+tterscotch

[bridge: mac miller, hodgy & mac miller & hodgy]
tasty, tasty, that sh+t is tasty
this sh+t is tasty
n+gga, smoke

[verse 2: hodgy]
we servin’ faster than the chinese
this life carries a price cheaper than clown feet
like prostitutes with hoops and combined weaves
who hates herself inside
so she sellin’ her punani by umami (ooh mind me?)
it’s like my soul’s inside the bowl
i hold it close, ’cause i don’t know when it’s my time to go
i’m blindin’ fold, i hear my son laughing and time is froze
and he knows it, lookin’ at me like “that’s my pops,” and i’m his goal, n+gga
motherf+cker, i hit pockets, pickpockets
i’ll beat you for your keys, bubblegum, and your b+tch wallet
to his product, i’m a prodigy of a dead n+gga
no name droppin’, scribin’ when n0body was dead meat when they came flockin’
brain doctorin’, where i left my hard dates
small shakes and small dates, the ones i only call late in parlay
you know what the dark say, grab a b+tch by the paw, ayy
her name’s autumn, she happens to be fallin’ on the wrong day

[outro: mac miller, hodgy & mac miller & hodgy]
n+gga, tasty (tasty), tasty
tasty, that sh+t is tasty
that sh+t is tasty
tasty, tasty, tasty, tasty

- mac miller lyrics

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