Mac Miller

Featuring: Kevin Gates Earl Sweatshirt

Producer: The Alchemist

[Intro: Earl Sweatshirt & Mac Miller]
Uh, look at you (Woo), look at you
Look at you, look at you ([?])

[Chorus: Earl Sweatshirt & Mac Miller]
I don't want this to come between us (Yeah)
But right now I look the worst that you probably seen me (Yeah)
The come down worse than the high, Momma, believe me
(Look at you)
And that's true
You got some problems to deal with and that's you
(Look at you)
I can't even talk, I ain't meanin' to act rude
It's just I'm just kinda hot and it's easy to catch (Yeah)
I'ma leave it at that (Yeah)
(Yeah) And that's—

[Verse 1: Mac Miller]
Me's tryna tell you somethin' (Woo)
But a feelin' like this has no words, so
I keep on wastin' time and ever since my angel died
The halo shine is rusted (Whoa)
I say I'm fine, I'm frontin'
Every day I just been blunted
Mind is cloudy as my judgement, shit
You know I'm cut from the same cloth that they use for Kevlar
(Kevlar)
Ain't sober much, I've been faded off and I don't remember (Nah)
I'm goin' up like my name was God
Who the fuck are you sayin' I'm not?
My thoughts are heavy, weighin' down my brain with pressure
(I can't take it)
I'm pickin' up the roaches out the ashtray (That's true)
Yeah, ain't fuckin' with no hoes that's in the rap game (That's true)
There's somethin' different 'bout me
Ever since I whipped the Audi
Smell it like it's the shit around me
Feelin' like the Big Lebowski (I'm that dude)
Sick of showin' sad faces
I was hidden in the bat cave where the bitches came in nightly
Keepin' it as spicy as my last name (Mr. McCormick)
I bet a million dollars, show you who your friends are (Friends are)
I don't need respect, just show me where the checks are (Checks are)
The game is full of clones, you stick out like a red Ferrari
Go fix your problems, swipin' my American Express card (Ching!)
You tell me I'm arrogant, I say that I'm certain (Certain)
I talk to my therapist, it ain't really workin' (Workin')
I can't tell if I'm just crazy or a genius (Genius)
You my weakness, it's becomin' inconvenient (Broken pieces)

[Chorus: Earl Sweatshirt & Mac Miller]
I don't want this to come between us (No)
But right now I look the worst that you probably seen me (Yeah)
The come down worse than the high, Momma, believe me
(Look at you)
And that's true
(Look at you)
You got some problems to deal with and that's you
(Look at you)
I can't even talk, I ain't meanin' to act rude
It's just I'm just kinda hot and it's easy to catch (Look)
I'ma leave it at that

[Verse 2: Mac Miller & Delusional Thomas]
All of your screamin' got me smokin' weed to relax (Weed)
Yeah, some sativa to pass to feed the demons I have (Woo)
I never gave a fuck, why should I start now? (Start now)
Big dreams, small town
Get you while your guard down
The realest — speakin' in facts
This shit is — deeper than rap
I put my city — on the map
I'm rockin' a — P on my cap (Pittsburgh)
Tell him that Jesus is back
And all he after (After)
Is for a bottle of whiskey and some freaks he can smash
(Life's so expensive, hah)
But to me it's as cheap as the fees in the cab
To go down the street and then back (Sir, thank you)
All this fever I have, heatin' the people to ash
I'ma start beatin' your ass for no reason (Hah)
Colder than the snow season (Oh)
Elevation, no ceilin' (Woo)
We all goin' home eatin'
And we done with dope dealin' (Yep)
Everything legitimate, limitless
We all got businesses
I made my way
The eight sideways, we infinite
Yeah, I bet a million dollars, show you who your friends are (Friends are)
I don't need respect, just show me where the checks are (Checks are)
I'm down to bang 'til I'm out the game like a red card
Chill in outer space in a Death Star
Hollerin' at bitches still (Bitches still)
Hope they down to chill at the crib and they freakish (I need it)

[Chorus: Earl Sweatshirt]
I don't want this to come between us
But right now I look the worst that you probably seen me
The come down worse than the high, Momma, believe me
And that's true
You got some problems to deal with and that's you
I can't even talk, I ain't meanin' to act rude
It's just I'm just kinda hot and it's easy to catch
I'ma leave it at that

[Verse 3: Kevin Gates]
Upon first glance, I look through the soul, no words spoken
Heart frozen, tear drops stained pillow cases roll over (Shit)
Got over that, built to last
I'ma pro from that to be honest
No goin' back, life's journey
No chosen path settin' sails around countless convicted felons
Maximum security
Only presence felt with is tested
No tellin', send us to death or to the chair (Yee)
In my ghetto, the children probably consider me the mayor (Whoa)
Full-fledged, bein' gangster don't mean shit without the bread
Bread winners association, you not wit' that, you dead (Dead)
Or deadbeat, fresh sneaks surroundin' my feet (Check on my walk)
But walk like there no jury, get off right
Now let's shake it back from my loss
From the ones I thought thought like me
I'm greetin' they talk like me, well, until my back was turned
Old-fashioned clutch rest and can't handle it, back then turned
All black affair, I learned to order manslaughter
Peep out they flaws, attack 'em
Action brought them bands off 'em
Makin' statements places where I'm hated, flossin' jags on 'em
Out shoppin' out in Calabasas, mind still entrapped
Traps up in every cabinet
Fake bricks and counterfeit money in every closet
Just in case I'm caught slippin', you get me
You tried to rob your mind, plottin' where I'm thinkin'
Somewhat'll be mind bogglin', ten toes deep in the game
Step ahead of the corner, on my head or around it
My aggression rerouted, he had to die
The bitch violated, question me 'bout it
Go to war with whoever love who upset with about it
Flee the scene, jumpin' bonds
Detectives guessin' about me
Where the money come from? (Get on the ground)
Cold cash makin' deposits
Arrest record's shot, I ain't never sentenced for bodies
Motorcycle was [?]
This a rented Ducati
Wide body, sippin' lean when I ride it
Feel like I'm flyin', nigga, watch how I glide it
Got it?

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.

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