Songwriter: Mac Miller

Producer: Soul Theory

[But My Mackin Ain't Easy Intro]
Yo, Soul Theory!
Let's get it man, ha

[The Jukebox Intro]
DJ Capcom is the beast of this game
Y'all better get him a leash

[Hook]
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll anotha
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll anotha
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll anotha
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll anotha
Haha, yo

[Verse 1]
You see they probably wonder why I don't smile
Cause these cats need to get their own style
Hold the phone dial
I go miles, when I'm sprinting on the beat
You'll get lifted of your feet
When you spliffin' up my trees
Quit givin' me a speech
I ain't really tryna hear this
See with these lyrics
I'm tryna run fearless
We playing games in this jungle, Jumanji
With bomb tree, hidden under all my dirty laundry
Call me an arm free fucking around
I'm putting words in your mind
So you in love with the sound
They saving my place
Tryna shove this food in my face
So they force it down my throat
Till I'm use to the taste
Now move to your place
Cuz I'm campin' out on top
Fresh kicks on my feet
While you sittin' in some socks
Cops tryna get me locked
Catch me fucking with shenanigans
But I'll just handle them and throw them in the ambulance
They want to know what my hands is in
Scare me straight
Get back bitch I ain't tryna share my plate
What's good fam, I love money, I will marry cake
Get a rich bitch like Ashley and Mary Kate
And I ain't talking about one of them
I'm getting both
I grab them and get a loaf
And then take their money and their coats
I blow trees, so my mouth is always filled with smoke
You sniffin' coke
Singing but you haven't hit a note
Plus that shit you wrote isn't set to carry a crowd
I'm legendary anywhere that I'm out
I'm sharing this pound
With my people like a how high sequel
Told my people need to air out the house
So beware of my mouth
Spittin' venom, coming out the cerebellum
With these kicks on my feet
See I told you I was gellin'
You playin' felon
You in stealin' a penny
I put a hole in your belly like you Oprah or Jenny

[Hook]
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll anotha
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll anotha
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll anotha
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll anotha

[Verse 2]
I sport a long white tee, fitted cap, baggy pants
If you see me be sure to slap my hand
Some people do it for the love
Some people do it cuz they can
But me, I'm tryna be legend like Bag a Vance
Some rap will make you think
While other shit will make you dance
So I bump what ever is in the system
Tryin' to make some plans
I just want to see what's good for the night time
IF nothings hype, I'ma head up to crib and write rhymes
Age like white wine, nicer by the second
That's why I never put punctuation on a sentence
Cuz the song goes on, here a dope song
If they say I wasn't for real, then you was told wrong
See you ain't on, what we on
You bright, I'm neon
I'm smoking up the weed till the tree gone
Yeah
My life is up and down like a see-saw
So I stay with a bitch like my name was Leon, Phelps

[Hook]
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll another
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll another
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll another
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll another
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll another
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll another
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll another
Lick it, split it, twist it, hit it, spliff it, pitch it, roll another

[Outro: Wiz Khalifa]
Okay! It's your boy, Wiz Khalifa, man
The prince of the 4-1
Um, 2 in here with my guy, young Mac Miller
Jukebox mixtape, you know what I'm sayin'?
Doing it real big out here in Pittsburgh
You know what I mean?
Make sure y'all look out for that young talent
Smackin' niggas across the motherfuckin' face this year
Of that and beyond, we flyin' the fuck out
Jukebox mixtape!

Mac Miller

Malcolm James McCormick (Jan. 19, 1992 – Sept. 7, 2018), who performed as Mac Miller, was an American rapper and producer from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Since releasing his first mixtape at just 15 years old, he became one of the leaders of the new school of young and highly talented “weirdos.”

Mac’s credibility in the rap game increased ten-fold and resulted in a slew of quality releases, including 2012’s Macadelic mixtape, his second studio album Watching Movies With The Sound Off, and his critically-acclaimed 2014 mixtape Faces.

He had multiple alter-egos, most notably his producer alias Larry Fisherman and his sick and twisted pitched-up persona (à la Quasimoto,) Delusional Thomas.