Lyrics:
a big-ass revolver
And a MAC, man
What the fuck are you retarded?
You touch Shady, I'll leave you dearly departed
This ain't Batman, Robin, Cagney
we busted
'Til I got a buzz like that nigga Chris Mullin
District of Columbia
You Bernie Mac funny, we ain't scared of none of ya
Look at,
we busted
'Til I got a buzz like that nigga Chris Mullin
District of Columbia
You Bernie Mac funny, we ain't scared of none of ya
Look at,
Francis McPeake/Ewan MacColl
As I was sitting with a jug and spoon, one Sunday morning in the month of June.
A birdie sang in an ivy bunch
This the art of hustle, this the art of war
Five mil' in the crib and it got art galore
Shawty arch her back, like a masterpiece
I'm black but she
meenie mini moe, nine, trey pound or forty fo'
Pick a strap, The Tec, the Mac, the Hawk, I stab it in your back
I'll blow your brains, I know your name
think I'm pretty neat
Oh, I don't know nothing about arts and crafts
But I give 'em all something to eat
I'm a friend to old Euell Gibbons
And I only
[Mac DeMarco]
I mean, I have a setup so I can make albuns forever
I'm not paying anything to be in here
I'm not even paying for tape anymore
So it's
like Jeff Fort, the way I get behind bars
Burn CDs with no regard for the stars
Come to the grip with conflict diamonds and the arts
Back in '94
you not a skater
We got you on the floor, paint your ass red
Turn his bitch into a art show
Now on the left side, we got the brand-new Benz
within
Make art great again or my story is fin
(verse)
Nothing was the same after mac miller's death
Sorta like he died and took the art when he left
We
Kill bin Laden, never throw up in the black house
Still got the Macs out, pull the mask down like a mascot
Still trick with bitches out with money
perfected this art
1 year ago today
Mac Miller passed away
Head always held high, no shame
I do it for the legends and the no names
For the ones who've ever
Fidel way of thinkin', roll with the Mac bent Ac-10
Most of my team, Five Percent check what the live said
Rollin with Guess vests pedestrians yo
the space
Subtle hesitation, just in case
Could you be the one to restore my faith
Captivated by the art you make
As I get the grand tour of your place
Your
hustlin' heaven and pimpin' an art
Long as I know that I'm blessed
'Cause I'm loved in depth
I can walk through the water and not get wet
I'm that fresh
ever stop
Scott LaRock heard a dope story
About him from the Blastmasta
Out west RIB mac Dre & The Jacka
When we die it plants new seeds
For new Big Bank
place, keep the mac in a special place
Keep moving for papes, keep cool, keep doing what you doing
Keep it fly, keep me in the crates
'Cause I will
That's where my stash at (uh-uh-uh)
I put my MAC down (yeah), that's where you lack at (yeah)
She need her candle lit (yeah), and I'ma wax that (got 'em)
[Verse 1: Mac Dre]
I'm a hutch-peeler with much scrilla and I love to get high, homie
Shady character like Don King, so you better keep your eye
That's where my stash at (uh-uh-uh)
I put my MAC down (yeah), that's where you lack at (yeah)
She need her candle lit (yeah), and I'ma wax that (got 'em)
MacBook
j'vais au MacVal, j'soigne mon look
mon bacon j'l'appelle Francis
et mon chat s'appelle Matisse
moi je kiffe l'art contemporain
je suis bizarre et
grew from the concrete
Half a line in Del Amo on cross streets
Baby baby mommas strappin'
Babies in carseats niggas failed art class
Still they'll draw
ticking
While I get you flipping off the shit I'm kicking
The Lone Ranger, code red, danger
Deep in the dark with the art to rip the charts apart
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