Mac Miller — La Familia

[Intro: Ghosty] East End in this bitch, yo It's Ghost, Villain, Mac, Vinny, yeah Uh, uh [Verse 1: Mac Miller] Feelin' like a scholar, gotta keep my grades up (Uh-huh) Hear the same stuff every day from these lame fucks (Yep) This whole game rough, kick you while you down And none of these motherfuckers gon' miss you when you out I used to sit around the house, waitin' for some dollars Now I'm out grindin', chasin' after dollars (Uh-huh) I ain't a star just wastin' all my dollars (Haha) We here for life, y'all fade away tomorrow Pause, roll the dice like a board game (Board game) I'm sleepin' with your girl and I don't even know the whore's name So magnificent, quick to spit to kill this shit These bitches is illiterate and this is some deliverance No Bubba Sparks, talkin' Karl Malone Snakebite, I hinge my jaw and swallow you whole On my own path, throwback, dope rap (What?) The room stops when me, Vinny, Vil or Ghost rap (Uh-huh) Y'all fragile, broke glass, comin' with no swag I be countin' numbers, no math, failin' class But I'm scholarly, rap properly Knowledge speaks with the verbal trigonometry Uh, real slick like I'm climbin' out the foxes hole Keep your grades up, bitch, no honor roll (What?) [Verse 2: [?]] [?] for profit Skeletons be tryin' on the clothes in my closet (Yeah) Infrequently home, [?] the coffin In a world full of deadbeats wonderin' where the stars shit (Uh-huh) Just pumpin' 808s, mob shit We keep it heartless regardless of circumstance [?] burnin' plants to stimulate my daydreams Learn advance techniques of the speech The way I say things, amazin' Raisin' hell [?] Infiltrate arenas with the [?] Battle scars [?] With O.J. gloves and [?] punches I walk through the realness like niggas on crunches Yo, fuck this, my hips are strong enough to let me hop on, I run shit Flick of the switch, permis' to drop bombs, I'm dumb sick [?] for fun and the shot'll make your chest burn With sippin' that red rum, yep So go to [?] on a hangover holiday (Uh-huh) I'm dead serious, it's takin' up my closet space to hide the bones But as time goes, they rot away A consequence of price, you gotta pay Even cheapskates pay the sweepstakes I'm on the other side of the state with cheese stake and three plates of cheese cake I'm eatin' great (Uh-huh), side-steppin' the insanity Just make reality from fantasies with my family [Verse 3: [?]] Wordsmith, noble scribe or ghostwriter verbalist (Uh-huh) Two .45s, Q45 swervin' it Emerge from shit, yeah, the stench from them urban bricks Projects, 220, I blew money for shirts and kicks I do what I feel, I move by the real Rude, get your food chewed, leavin' dudes out of meals (Uh-huh) [?] Countin' reasons why I'd do it again Like the Earth with the fire, thin as blue with the wind Blowin' with the wind, ink artillery, I'm prone 'til the end I get checks like a phone and a pen More real than a estate when you owe me a [?] And I'm like Jesse Owens, catch me flowin' [?] On a track, venom attack for playin' with this government College Michael Vick, QB option, we be runnin' shit Or Terrelle Pryor, keep that fire by the underpits (Underpits) 'Cause it feels like the gun consists of a ton of bricks Punchin' shit, punishment, no pun intended Ever since [?] jump, my funds ascended The judge my nigga, I ain't wit it', gettin' reprimanded Ended up wipin' out my sentence like I'm left-handed On bandwagon is the best transit [?] (What up?) Granted, I be thinkin' it's all fakery [?] My vision concrete as masonry [Verse 4: [?]] Uh, look, ya I'ma go for mine, you can never over-grind [?] spark the light, frozen wine make the narcs get [?] They wanna follow the cashflow I tell 'em even though it comin' quick, my dough comin' legit Cook 'em right in front of you [?] We don't even show guns, we just spit Seventy rounds unloaded from the [?] Who made the decision to go and fuck with him? (Hmm) I don't know what thoughts crossed they head Uh, but niggas must be off they meds Real rap, so that noise [?] Before me and men rush in, too late for the discussions Check it, Vinny be bangin' bitches like percussions Felt by most, but no, ain't a nigga that can touch 'em And I fought frequently, lookin' for my next wifey And US Weekly, why would they unleash me? I don't know, but yo, tell help to come quickly 'Bout to leave my mark on the game like a buck fifty Let me say this: only players that can fuck with me Play for the same team, which is my city, Pittsburgh