Mac Miller - Funk Flex Freestyle lyrics

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Mac Miller - Funk Flex Freestyle lyrics

[Verse 1: Mac Miller] Eating shawarma, doing drawings of Chewbacca Bumping Flocka, f** the drama Marijuana's been as calming as the f**ing Dalai Lama Your style common as a little league sponsor from a 'tarded kid's father I'm at meetings shaking hands and adding commas to my net worth Talk about my money please and feelings might just get hurt This the same effect and less words Chilling with this a**hole, he call himself Sweatshirt I think this might be some of my best work I let these b**hes dive in, but it's head first Applying pressure when I put together letters I'm a king, I'm a myth, beat a b**h down with my scepter These Fendi treasures feeling better than a million sweaters in Alaska Your raps are as corny as Nebraska Lacka-daisical bars, my throw aways will trash ya High as NASA on acetone Acid foam, talking trash like John McEnroe You a little b**h with the f**ing cabbage patch flow Watch me smack a ho, turn around and catapult off Up above my castle's moat, right into my f**ing throne This man is dapper, manufactured in hell You candy rappers got damn disasters, myself, I'm chilling Club house, I'm demanding pa**words so villains can't infiltrate This type of lifestyle that one simulates My b**h is great, had a dinner date with William Gates He took her to his big estate, the b**h flipped the safe Escaped through the kitchen bank, dipped it down the interstate Handed me the money, started s**ing me off This is a full blown virus, we don't f** with a cough Made money off the white without touching the soft, I'm in there Million dollars, I been there, 'bout a few times Mulan, she on the futon, tryna do lines This coupe-I'm... in, highway about a buck fifty Middle finger out the window, who wanna f** with me? I told Dom's and Hodgy, stop popping mollies Tryna blow up and die: some real kamikazes Young fisherman sinking in Lake Michigan Innocence, voice of an angel, so Minnie Riperton Exquisite b**h, getting lit, live from the Wimbledon Still sinning this ill pimping is Bill Clinton She bu*t-naked swimming, I'm paying for no attention Workaholic, got a tv show I know you seen the crib, now she sees the youngin' rhyme Sanitary birth, watch a bee get buried in the hurst See, I k** myself Mac hippie an*log, you rap midi, turn the camera's off, I make you snap and slap your bandana off Your b**h greet me like I'm Santa Clause, mouth water High as a satellite, see I'm in ancient Greece, getting head from Aphrodite Mac is mighty, got a bunch of whitey's acting like me I set the bar high This a bizarre ride, word to Pharcyde In plaid pants, hit a hole-in-one on the Par 5 Eyes closed, drinking whiskey, let the car drive These hoes thirsty, see the dick and they large-eyed The rawest rapper, baby forehead autographer On top of Saturn, I'm sending shots from my rocket blaster Believe me this is where geniuses live It's most dope, be holier than all of Jesus's kids But we speaking to heathens and all these even Stevens who don't need a reason Just want a b**h that they can feed with semen Don't even sleep, the cheeba goin' keep me dreaming, I'm faded Been in Cali a little too long, it got me jaded Hit Japan and I'm Instagraming camera shy samurais f**ing up a Jerm beat, teach you how to vandalize The bandana Santana tied My sound amplified Screams from Kenny Woods still Phantom ride My pockets fat, still looking for some pants my size They overan*lyze everything I fantasized We could have a conersation, we could panamime Or you could come a little closer, put your hand in mine This life a prison, time to set you free Watching movies in silence, describing what I see Word

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