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mac miller - pet sounds lyrics

[produced by nottz]

[intro: mac miller]
i wrote this under the influence of narcotics
yeah
play them horns!
young raspy god

[verse 1: mac miller]
why you f-cking up my good mood?
the bimmer used but it look new
your raps dry as over cooked food
my shit is kaboom
i took shrooms
now i’m playing dodgeball in a crooked room
so address me as your superior
mind on delirium, ice cold interior
stirring up the chaos, i’m the cause of the confusion
young grown -ss nuisance with the strength of 22 men
puking all over your brand new accoutrements
lucrative, -ss-ssin them but shoot to miss
i turn my body into eucharist
nail me to a crucifix
if i’m gonna k!ll myself then i’mma do it big
scaling mount vesuvius
we don’t even know what being human is
and what’s a man when he loses wits?
useless as the news at 6
fools mean nothing but a bunch of rotten and stupid kids

[hook: mac miller]
i wanna, i wanna punch you (punch you)
i wanna, wanna, i wa-
i wanna punch you (punch you)
i wanna, i wanna punch you in your f-cking face (oh b-tch!)

[verse 2: mac miller]
you live inside a computer
in 2014, religion turn to rumor
manuever through the world in an uber
born to be a loser to the world, i’m just a tumor they’ll remove
if i would’ve done my schoolwork
i could’ve been an oklahoma sooner with a golden retriever i named cooper
part time at kruger’s
working on securing me and future the american dream
big titty b-tches guaranteed a spot on the team
bust inside my pants, leave a spot on my jeans
clean it up
why pretty girls always mean to us
i’m the godzilla of mess
leave my house forgetting that i’m still in a dress
*gun sounds*
gun sounds, gun sounds

[hook]
i wanna, i wanna punch you (punch you)
i wanna, wanna, i wa-
i wanna punch you (punch you)
i wanna, i wanna punch you in your f-cking face (oh b-tch!)
yeah i wanna, i wanna punch you
i wanna, wanna, i wa-
i wanna punch you (punch you)
i wanna, i wanna punch you in your f-cking face (oh b-tch!)

[verse 3: sean price]
i’m worldwide but i smack clowns local
gunshots, mop background vocals
fire in the hole of the designer of your clothes
on the up and up you f-ckin’ up, why you f-cking with those
planet of the apes, the survival of the goons
i’m so dope, you could put the lighter on the spoon
i’m tightest with the tunes, need a verse and i write it son
master this shit with no practice b-tch, al iverson
f-ck the king of new york, in my presence they all peasants
the king is all talk
whoever holding the crown
better p-ss that shit to me, p i’m holding it down
f-ck if you the greatest
a lot of rappers got k!lled, f-ck around and be the latest
your bars warm, my shit smoking
i pitch knicks at my pace, i’m chris copeland
yeah

[hook: mac miller]
i wanna, i wanna punch you (punch you)
i wanna, wanna, i wa-
i wanna punch you (punch you)
i wanna, i wanna punch you in your f-cking face (oh b-tch!)

- mac miller lyrics

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