Mac Miller - Gees - live in london lyrics

Ignorant-a** white kid But I'm still bicycling and recycling And I'm still eating Gummy Bear vitamins All my b**hes 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**, take your Sudafed Contagious, speaking while sedated God sh**, 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 k** the game half-a** Set some rat traps, went to take a cat nap Woke up, threw the dead bodies in the trash bags Act polite, but I'm nasty on the mic Your b**h don't want my dick, then she has to be a dyke Slap it but she like, tell me, "Master, feed my pipe." I'm the Scotch on the Rocks, you the Appletini type b**h s** my dick before I slap you with it Gees s** my dick before I slap you with it Gees Still f**ing with these hoes, though Ozo on these doppelgänger Jojos Take a b**h to Soho for some Froyo Tell her she gone blow it, Romo And now I'm out in Cali like Tone-Lōc Young boy, but I'm chilling with some grown folk No joke, most dope, you just bowl smoke How much coke 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 warshed I ain't from the street but I grow you from the porch I been had hoes, I play sports Her a** out the bottom of her shorts s** my dick before I slap you with it Gees s** my dick before I slap you with it Gees 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 kush seeds, the only strand to smoke for us OGs I'm rich car service, no car keys First cla** flight, 'bout to land on a new b**h She f** me and swallowed every homie I came with MCM bag and n***a, 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 Quarter million in a safe in case I get a case f*ggot-a** judge hating on me cause my money straight Dropped 10 racks in all 50 states Gone name my next tour Million-Man March Make a nun throw it back while I pull her scarf She gave me head, my nuts touched her cross, boss Figg side s** my dick before I slap you with it