Оригинален текст
Uh, chya! uh, uh
Dedicated too, this dedicated too
Fuck it
[Verse 1: Mac Miller]
Uh, I got a pocket full of posies
Some devil with a pitchfork keep talkin like he know me
Im psychopathic, low key, my hyperactive dome piece
Get no sleep, ill as fuck, the hospitals seem so weak
I stood before an Angel as he told me bout the glory
Put me in a room of people, how the fuck could I be lonely
I only get money, these lables tryna clone me
Uh, my thoughts get heavy, hit the ground and crack the concrete
So, I try to keep em in my head
Its sad to see when everything that you believe is dead
Word to Heavy D, and rest in peace to all that come and pass
Life is good sometimes, but it just doesnt last
A bunch of tracks, you see this mic is like my punchin bag
Rock n Roll, drugs and cash, you softer than a bubble bath
Sucka ass mothafucka, muthafuckas venom and
Doper than the shit that put Chris Tucker in Dead Presidents
Desert rhymes, homie, ridin beats, Im on a camel
Im way too hot to handle, life a beach, I brought my sandals
Haha, you want a war ? I got a lot of ammo
You aint a soldier cause you rockin cammo
Young Rambo, hundred million fans though
And I do it big, you a Ipod Nano
Fire on wax, look like I rock candles
Yeah you got a show, but you aint on my channel
Thats HBO bitch, you gotta pay for that
Hahaha, your channels free
Im gunna fuckin kill you
Um, Imaxn shit motherfucker
Yeah, suck my dick
[Verse 2: Mac Miller]
Hey, ayo, Im bout to start gambilin with Ambien
Im dutch smokin, thats a strike
But fuck bowlin, I could tear a pin of Maryland
See, Im American, apparently its damagin
To be in front of cameras in your underwear with Marilyn
Monroe, look at dumb hoes who want to much dough
And come close to have you straight trippin when you jump rope
Dont rock the love boat, this business fuckin cut throat
And its gunna crack is you just paint the wall with one coat
Rooms filled with blunt smoke, peep me through the fog
These rappers who be hatin probably need to get a job
See, me Im with my squad, gettin money, livin comfortable
I know a couple hoes who model, but they ugly though
Fuck a toast, yall is fuckin broke, cut ya throat
Judgin me is nothin dope, boy you lyin under oath
God made the world, why did man make the scriptures?
And if he created Lennon, whyd he go and make a Hitler?
I could take a photo, but Id rather paint a picture
Of the one Laurence Fishburne, well shoot up all you hipsters
Im from Pittsburgh, thats black and gold
If my skin gets filled up, Imma tat my soul
Runnin out of paper, writin on my hand
Hundred thousand haters writin bout my jams
Want a number one independent album? Im your man
Imma hit Preme and leave you all right where you stand
Read more: http://lyricsdub.com/mac-miller-desperado-lyrics.html#ixzz1q9xx6Fs2