Released: June 10, 2013
Featuring: The Internet
Songwriter: Clams Casino Mac Miller
Producer: The Internet
[Verse 1]
Okay
Chillin' for an hour, smokin' weed, watchin' Worldstar
Benz in the garage, pro'bly gotta drive your girl car
You ain't a rapper if my homies never heard y'all
I just spit a punchline, smile then they bird call (Brr)
Hit your sister in the face with a Nerf Ball
Dealin' with some shit that really don't concern y'all
Punch a fan if he get a fucking word wrong
Wavy, givin' you some shit that you can surf on
[?] findin' me a bitch I can swerve on
Frank Thomas, homie, 'bout to put the hurt on
Your bitch a night light, in bed she turned on
I roll some weed, tell her burn one, burn one
[Vocal Sampling: DJ ClockWork]
[Verse 2]
Okay
I used to give a fuck about success
Now I just want to see Mila Kunis undress
Hope she down for butt sex, it would be a cum fest
Uh, sorry, that's some shit I had to confess
Crazy-ass bitch doing 911 threats
Came in the game smoking Newport Hundreds
Now I'm at the top and the crown fit, gold on my outfit
Surrounded by the pussy I'ma—Pat
You got that wet pack, bitch, come and gimme that
You know we wanna know where them titties at
Got 'em gassed, they be askin' what I'm cooking wit'
Have your little brother ask your moms what a pussy is
Corruption, stunting at the function
Your girl pussy smell like Sour Cream & Onion
Woo, pay attention, you gon' learn somethin'
Roll that weed up, and then we burn one
[Vocal Sampling: DJ ClockWork]
[Verse 3]
[?]
On the playground is where I spent most of my days
Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool
And all shooting some b-ball outside of the school
When a couple of guys, they were up to no good
They started making trouble in my neighborhood
I got in one little fight and my mom got scared
And said "You're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air"
I whistled for a cab and when it came near
The license plate said 'Fresh' and it had dice in the mirror
If anything I could say that this cab was rare
But I thought "Nah, forget it, yo, Holmes, to Bel-Air!"
[Chant: Mac Miller & DJ ClockWork]
Hands up, said put your, said put your motherfucking
Hands up, put your motherfucking
Hands up, your hands up
[?] hands up, hands up, hands up, yo, yo
Get 'em up
Now get 'em up, motherfucker, put 'em up
Keep 'em up, [?] keep 'em up
London keep your hands in the air
Okay
Chillin' for an hour, smokin' weed, watchin' Worldstar
Benz in the garage, pro'bly gotta drive your girl car
You ain't a rapper if my homies never heard y'all
I just spit a punchline, smile then they bird call (Brr)
Hit your sister in the face with a Nerf Ball
Dealin' with some shit that really don't concern y'all
Punch a fan if he get a fucking word wrong
Wavy, givin' you some shit that you can surf on
[?] findin' me a bitch I can swerve on
Frank Thomas, homie, 'bout to put the hurt on
Your bitch a night light, in bed she turned on
I roll some weed, tell her burn one, burn one
[Vocal Sampling: DJ ClockWork]
[Verse 2]
Okay
I used to give a fuck about success
Now I just want to see Mila Kunis undress
Hope she down for butt sex, it would be a cum fest
Uh, sorry, that's some shit I had to confess
Crazy-ass bitch doing 911 threats
Came in the game smoking Newport Hundreds
Now I'm at the top and the crown fit, gold on my outfit
Surrounded by the pussy I'ma—Pat
You got that wet pack, bitch, come and gimme that
You know we wanna know where them titties at
Got 'em gassed, they be askin' what I'm cooking wit'
Have your little brother ask your moms what a pussy is
Corruption, stunting at the function
Your girl pussy smell like Sour Cream & Onion
Woo, pay attention, you gon' learn somethin'
Roll that weed up, and then we burn one
[Vocal Sampling: DJ ClockWork]
[Verse 3]
[?]
On the playground is where I spent most of my days
Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool
And all shooting some b-ball outside of the school
When a couple of guys, they were up to no good
They started making trouble in my neighborhood
I got in one little fight and my mom got scared
And said "You're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air"
I whistled for a cab and when it came near
The license plate said 'Fresh' and it had dice in the mirror
If anything I could say that this cab was rare
But I thought "Nah, forget it, yo, Holmes, to Bel-Air!"
[Chant: Mac Miller & DJ ClockWork]
Hands up, said put your, said put your motherfucking
Hands up, put your motherfucking
Hands up, your hands up
[?] hands up, hands up, hands up, yo, yo
Get 'em up
Now get 'em up, motherfucker, put 'em up
Keep 'em up, [?] keep 'em up
London keep your hands in the air