Sean Price - 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**ing up my good mood? The Bimmer used but it look new Your raps dry as over cooked food My sh** 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 a** nuisance with the strength of 22 men Puking all over your brand new accoutrements Lucrative, a**a**in them but shoot to miss I turn my body into Eucharist Nail me to a crucifix If I'm gonna k** 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**ing face (Oh b**h!) [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**hes 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**ing face (Oh b**h!) 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**ing face (Oh b**h!) [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**in' up, why you f**ing 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 sh** with no practice b**h, Al Iverson f** the king of New York, in my presence they all peasants The king is all talk Whoever holding the crown Better pa** that sh** to me, P I'm holding it down f** if you the greatest A lot of rappers got k**ed, f** around and be the latest Your bars warm, my sh** 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**ing face (Oh b**h!)