Released: December 11, 2008
Featuring: Max B Beedie
Songwriter: Beedie Max B Mac Miller
Producer: DJ Nice
[Intro: Max B]
Chyeah
[?]
What's good, baby?
Let me tell y'all how we do it
[Chorus: Max B & Beedie]
I got them bitches [?] got these niggas sayin', "Wait"
These bitches screamin', "Oh"
And we just (Oh), we just let the money pile
And when it's time to eat, I'm the first in line for chow (For chow)
You more than welcome, bring the guns
And we ain't gotta keep sayin' it where we from (412, muhfuckers)
I'm a gain weightin' motherfucker for life (Yo, this shit's wavy as fuck, I'm 'bout to get my twist on and shit)
Chyeah
[Verse 1: Beedie]
I'd like to welcome everyone to the show
Grab a plate and some food to go
It's soon to roll, there's three on the track: Max B, Ill Spoken, so suitable
But who would know? (Know) If you've come thus far (Chyeah)
And how we crush so hard (Chyeah)
I wanna rush the ball, I'ma buy it all by myself, fuck y'all
See, I'm ridin' in my ocean waves, so blaze, I toast the haze
I coast for days, and we stay for a lil' bit pic
Take a sniff of that flava flave, I ain't tailor made (Haha)
I'ma take what I can, the first in line with a cake in my hand
And I seen y'all sink in the sand
That's money in the bank, mo' cheese for the team
And I do it for the cream, and the love for the scene
And the cuts with the E on the jeans
And I leave the receivin' team, which they didn't catch up
'Til they flee from the scene
You don't really want it, boy, you better back down
Tell your girl turn around, bring it back now
Tell me why she wanna ride on my style
Gotta scream my name so loud that she black out
Act now if you wanna get it crackin' (Chyeah)
Come [?] while my cars is stackin' (Chyeah)
So when I pause for action
Watch out, dawg, 'cause I ball for the passion (Chyeah)
I gotta beg ya for the next round
Best style, ill boy with the best sound
I don't mess around with that weak shit, keen shit
[?] with the flame, I'm playin' boy, ya chest out
Mr. I'll Show You What A Knife Do
You don't wanna be playin' wit' ya life, dude
Messin' with you sayin' you a target
You payin' that price 'cause I ain't gon' fight you
Some say I got a foul mind, 'cause I grind all day
Never got no downtime, and you know I gotta eat
I'm the first in the chow line
[Chorus: Max B & Mac Miller]
I got them bitches [?] got these niggas sayin', "Wait"
These bitches screamin', "Oh"
And we just (Oh), we just let the money pile
And when it's time to eat, I'm the first in line for chow (For chow)
You more than welcome, bring the guns
And we ain't gotta keep sayin' it where we from (412)
I'm a gain weightin' motherfucker for life
(Listen, yo) Chyeah
[Verse 2: Mac Miller]
Ill Spoken and Max B the realest that's out (Yep)
Collectin' dead presidents, no reasonable doubt (Haha)
If it wasn't three-thousand pounds, we be stealin' ya house
Choppin' it up, then we dealin' it out (Ha)
And I ain't feelin' my mouth
With every tick of your heart (Heart), your brain is rippin' apart ('Part)
The way I spit feel like your ears is gettin' bit by a shark
I'm just sittin' in park, waitin' to start my engine (Engine)
My bars is blendin', leave you sittin' up on Mars in seconds (Yeah)
Leave you scarred for weapons, I could battle you hard from detention (Uh-huh)
Yup, a mic blessing, givin' little tights lessons (Chyeah)
I'm grindin', let my chest bling
Rhymin' during testing, you would acted like Martin Sheen on The West Wing
Check, king, checkmate, the chessboard is mine
You wanna war with rhymes? The tourin' God explores your mind
You a borderline bitch fuckin' with pork and swine
Your spinal cord is gettin' popped like a cork in wine
I'm recordin' mine, Colt 45 what I'm sippin' on (Uh-huh)
I need that ice in my watch, feel like my wrist is gone (Uh-huh)
That's the shit I'm on, listen through an intercom
Blow your squad up with some more of that Pittsburgh bomb
[Chorus: Max B]
I got them bitches [?] got these niggas sayin', "Wait"
These bitches screamin', "Oh"
And we just (Oh), we just let the money pile
And when it's time to eat, I'm the first in line for chow (For chow)
You more than welcome, bring the guns
And we ain't gotta keep sayin' it where we from (All day)
I'm a gain weightin' motherfucker for life (Life, baby)
Chyeah
Chyeah
[?]
What's good, baby?
Let me tell y'all how we do it
[Chorus: Max B & Beedie]
I got them bitches [?] got these niggas sayin', "Wait"
These bitches screamin', "Oh"
And we just (Oh), we just let the money pile
And when it's time to eat, I'm the first in line for chow (For chow)
You more than welcome, bring the guns
And we ain't gotta keep sayin' it where we from (412, muhfuckers)
I'm a gain weightin' motherfucker for life (Yo, this shit's wavy as fuck, I'm 'bout to get my twist on and shit)
Chyeah
[Verse 1: Beedie]
I'd like to welcome everyone to the show
Grab a plate and some food to go
It's soon to roll, there's three on the track: Max B, Ill Spoken, so suitable
But who would know? (Know) If you've come thus far (Chyeah)
And how we crush so hard (Chyeah)
I wanna rush the ball, I'ma buy it all by myself, fuck y'all
See, I'm ridin' in my ocean waves, so blaze, I toast the haze
I coast for days, and we stay for a lil' bit pic
Take a sniff of that flava flave, I ain't tailor made (Haha)
I'ma take what I can, the first in line with a cake in my hand
And I seen y'all sink in the sand
That's money in the bank, mo' cheese for the team
And I do it for the cream, and the love for the scene
And the cuts with the E on the jeans
And I leave the receivin' team, which they didn't catch up
'Til they flee from the scene
You don't really want it, boy, you better back down
Tell your girl turn around, bring it back now
Tell me why she wanna ride on my style
Gotta scream my name so loud that she black out
Act now if you wanna get it crackin' (Chyeah)
Come [?] while my cars is stackin' (Chyeah)
So when I pause for action
Watch out, dawg, 'cause I ball for the passion (Chyeah)
I gotta beg ya for the next round
Best style, ill boy with the best sound
I don't mess around with that weak shit, keen shit
[?] with the flame, I'm playin' boy, ya chest out
Mr. I'll Show You What A Knife Do
You don't wanna be playin' wit' ya life, dude
Messin' with you sayin' you a target
You payin' that price 'cause I ain't gon' fight you
Some say I got a foul mind, 'cause I grind all day
Never got no downtime, and you know I gotta eat
I'm the first in the chow line
[Chorus: Max B & Mac Miller]
I got them bitches [?] got these niggas sayin', "Wait"
These bitches screamin', "Oh"
And we just (Oh), we just let the money pile
And when it's time to eat, I'm the first in line for chow (For chow)
You more than welcome, bring the guns
And we ain't gotta keep sayin' it where we from (412)
I'm a gain weightin' motherfucker for life
(Listen, yo) Chyeah
[Verse 2: Mac Miller]
Ill Spoken and Max B the realest that's out (Yep)
Collectin' dead presidents, no reasonable doubt (Haha)
If it wasn't three-thousand pounds, we be stealin' ya house
Choppin' it up, then we dealin' it out (Ha)
And I ain't feelin' my mouth
With every tick of your heart (Heart), your brain is rippin' apart ('Part)
The way I spit feel like your ears is gettin' bit by a shark
I'm just sittin' in park, waitin' to start my engine (Engine)
My bars is blendin', leave you sittin' up on Mars in seconds (Yeah)
Leave you scarred for weapons, I could battle you hard from detention (Uh-huh)
Yup, a mic blessing, givin' little tights lessons (Chyeah)
I'm grindin', let my chest bling
Rhymin' during testing, you would acted like Martin Sheen on The West Wing
Check, king, checkmate, the chessboard is mine
You wanna war with rhymes? The tourin' God explores your mind
You a borderline bitch fuckin' with pork and swine
Your spinal cord is gettin' popped like a cork in wine
I'm recordin' mine, Colt 45 what I'm sippin' on (Uh-huh)
I need that ice in my watch, feel like my wrist is gone (Uh-huh)
That's the shit I'm on, listen through an intercom
Blow your squad up with some more of that Pittsburgh bomb
[Chorus: Max B]
I got them bitches [?] got these niggas sayin', "Wait"
These bitches screamin', "Oh"
And we just (Oh), we just let the money pile
And when it's time to eat, I'm the first in line for chow (For chow)
You more than welcome, bring the guns
And we ain't gotta keep sayin' it where we from (All day)
I'm a gain weightin' motherfucker for life (Life, baby)
Chyeah
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From the albums
- The Jukebox: Prelude to Class Clown (2009)
- East End Leaks, Vol. 1 (2009)
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