Mac Miller — Cartel Gathering

[Intro: Beedie] Yo, yo, yo Uh, uh, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo Jimmie Hoffa, what the fuck is good? Boston, Mass to Pittsburgh, PA We gon' do it big Shout to Capcom, 93P Let's get it, man Yo, yo [Verse 1: Beedie] Ain't nothin' left to this rap of ringtones You know I'm makin' classics the more they sing songs Wow, that seems wrong, but I ain't gon' linger on it (I'm here) [?] with the illest style, I'm bringin' on 'em (It is what it is) Beedie, Crack, Mac Miller. Jimmie Hoffa Holla at me, bro, I need a blunt to get me proper I don't need a partner (Nah), we roll solo I'm so low to the ground, this beat is so cold This weed is so cold, it keep me loco Ayy, low key when I'm blowin' the haze I blow smoke [?] the state I'm in I'm for that gold medal spot, boy, I play it to win I done been through hell and been back (Uh-huh) So when I been back, you can get your men clapped Or get your gym snatched (Yeah) And that's how it's gotta be, 'cause I gotta get a lot of money [?] [Verse 2: Jimmie Hoffa] Just like the [?] wars, I'm a star I'm sicker than swine flu, [?] and SARS So I don't need a story, I just point 'em to my scars They swear life is hard 'til you in that foreign car (Bars) I keep a foreign broad to [?] And give me head while I'm workin' on my bars Like a bag off of [?], I'm way above par And your [?] See, that's why I'm [?] like unleaded Cut straight to the top, I am GPS headed (Woo) But still in the hood like [?] and bad credit So you can't pull my card 'cause I don't even own a debit (Haha) And I'm just stuntin' on you hoes Brushin' off my shirt and I ain't doin' shows But I'm very much a pro 'cause I can kill 'em with the flow And ever since the late '90s I been [?] [Verse 3: Mac Miller] Uh, Rocky Stallone boxin' a pro So if you steppin' up, you'll get knocked in ya dome You got style I can mop the floor with 'Cause y'all just bug like locust and roaches Walk into a restaurant, always spittin' game on the hostess Approach with swagger, take notice, never lose focus I'm gettin' dough up in my pockets It's all about the profit when you dealin' with the chronic Got a backpack [?] scale My old heads told me, "If you look back, you're frail" So no lookin', I'm ready to go Mind on the money, head on my dough Me, Hoff and Beedie ready to blow And y'all act like we haven't said it befo' So from Pittsburgh to Boston No options, it's hip-hop to the coffin, bitch