Mac Miller - Desperado lyrics

Uh chyeah
Uh uh
Dedicated to this dedicated to
Fuck it

Uh, I got a pocket full of posies
Some devil with a pitchfork keep
Talkin' like he know me
I'm 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 labels tryna clone me
Uh, my thoughts get heavy
Hit the ground and crack the concrete
So, I try to keep 'em in my head
It's 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 doesn't last a bunch of stress
You see this mic is like my punchin' bag
Rock 'n' roll, drugs and cash
You softer than a bubble bath
Sucka ass ma'fucka, ma'fucka's sediment
Doper than the shit that killed
Chris Tucker in Dead Presidents
Desert rhymes, homie, ridin' beats
I'm on a camel
I'm way too hot to handle, life
A beach, I brought my sandals, heh
You want a war? I got a lot of ammo
You ain't a soldier 'cause you rockin' camo
Young Rambo, hundred million fans though
And I do it big, you a iPod Nano
Fire on wax, look like I brought candles
Yeah, you got a show
But you ain't on my channel

That's HBO, bitch, you gotta pay for that
Aha ha ha your channel's free
Aha ha ha (I'm gonna fucking kill you) uh
IMAX some shit motherfucker, yeah
Suck my dick

Hey
Ayo, I'm 'bout to start gamblin' with Ambien
I'm dutch smokin'
That's a strike but fuck bowlin'
I could tear a pin of Maryland
See, I'm American, apparently it's damagin'
To be in front of cameras
In your underwear with Marilyn
Monroe-lookin' dumb hoes who want
Too much dough
And come close to have you straight
Trippin' when you jump rope
Don't rock the love boat
This business fuckin' cutthroat
And it's gonna crack if 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, I'm with my squad, gettin' money
Livin' comfortable
I know a couple hoes who model
But they ugly though
Fuck a toast, y'all 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
Why'd he go and make a Hitler?
I could take a photo
But I'd rather paint a picture
Of the one Laurence Fishburne
We'll shoot up all you hipsters
I'm from Pittsburgh, that's black and gold
If my skin gets filled up, I'ma tat my soul
Runnin' out of paper, writin' on my hand
Hundred thousand haters writin' 'bout my jams
Want a number one independent
Album? I'm your man
I'ma hit Preme and leave you
All right where you stand