Mac Miller - Desperado Lyrics
Dedicated too, this dedicated to***** it[Verse 1: Mac Miller]Uh, I got a pocket full of posiesSome devil with a pitchfork keep talkin' like he know meI'm psychopathic, low key, my hyperactive dome pieceGet no sleep, ill as *****, the hospitals seem so weakI stood before an Angel as he told me bout the gloryPut me in a room of people, how the ***** could I be lonelyI only get money, these lables tryna clone meUh, my thoughts get heavy, hit the ground and crack the concreteSo, I try to keep em' in my headIt's sad to see when everything that you believe is deadWord to Heavy D, and rest in peace to all that come and passLife is good sometimes, but it just doesn't lastA bunch of stress, you see this mic is like my punchin' bagRock n' Roll, drugs and cash, you softer than a bubble bathSucka ass motha*****a, mutha*****a's venom andDoper than the shit that killed Chris Tucker in Dead PresidentsDesert rhymes, homie, ridin' beats, I'm on a camelI'm way too hot to handle, life a beach, I brought my sandalsHaha, you want a war? I got a lot of ammoYou ain't a soldier cause you rockin' cammoYoung Rambo, hundred million fans thoughAnd I do it big, you a iPod NanoFire on wax, look like I rock candlesYeah you got a show, but you ain't on my channelThat's HBO *****, you gotta pay for thatHahaha, your channel's free(I'm gunna *****in' kill you)Um, Imax'n shit mother*****erYeah, suck my dick[Verse 2: Mac Miller]Hey, ayo, I'm bout to start gambilin' with AmbienI'm dutch smokin', that's a strikeBut ***** bowlin', I could tear a pin of MarylandSee, I'm American, apparently it's damagin'To be in front of cameras in your underwear with MarilynMonroe, look at dumb hoes who want to much doughAnd come close to have you straight trippin' when you jump ropeDon't rock the love boat, this business *****in' cut throatAnd it's gunna crack is you just paint the wall with one coatRooms filled with blunt smoke, peep me through the fogThese rappers who be hatin' probably need to get a jobSee, me I'm with my squad, gettin' money, livin' comfortableI know a couple hoes who model, but they ugly though***** a toast, y'all is *****in' broke, cut ya throatJudgin' me is nothin' dope, boy you lyin' under oathGod made the world, why did man make the scriptures?And if he created Lennon, why'd he go and make a Hitler?I could take a photo, but I'd rather paint a pictureOf the one Laurence Fishburne, we'll shoot up all you hipstersI'm from Pittsburgh, that's black and goldIf my skin gets filled up, I'mma tat my soulRunnin' out of paper, writin' on my handHundred thousand haters writin' bout my jamsWant a number one independent album? I'm your manI'mma hit Preme and leave you all right where you stand
