Transformations Lyrics – Mac Miller
Just kidding
Everything ready, man? Features, man
This is gonna be ***’ crazy, bro
This one’s gonna be great, bro
We’re gonna go off crazy, bro
This feature’s for the hip-hop world, like, so we gotta take this one seriously, bro
It’s really just Alarm Clock’s
Alright, he told me he wanted, he need to do a feature on the low, so I gotta do it right
And when you’re dealin’ with DJ Clockwork
You’re dealin’ with someone that, A. knows his hip-hop
He knows his hip-hop, he, you know, he’s a student of the game
And, and, and he treats his bars like a, you know, he really does that ***
Um
I’m straight
Here, at least have a, a beverage
Oh, there’s a beer up there, there’s a beer in the fridge, there’s a, uh
Grab the Tecate and then the Pacifico
‘Cause one’s a bottle, and one’s a can
I don’t know how, how much I’m tryna go in
Thank you, bro
Yeah, um, alright
Okay, so
Alright, psychopathic thinker, hyperactive drinker
Blew my *** up with a thumb up like Henry Winkler
My *** is like a king cover, put it in her sphincter
Your *** like a bad fart, all she do is linger
What? Um, let me, let me try, let me try that again
Okay, like I was sayin’
Alright, said, um
I’m a psychopathic thinker, hyperactive drinker
I blew my *** up with a thumb up like Henry Winkler
My *** is like a king cover, put it in her sphincter
Your *** like a bad fart, all she do is linger
***, I should have been a singer
I should have been Curt Schilling, woulda had a sinker
Ahead of y’all chillin’, you lookin’ at my blinkers
Rappers just some bumblebees, pullin’ out your stingers
Yeah, I’m gettin’ ***, smokin’ *** again
And lean for the lows, **** for the medium
Couple of my homies were on CNN
I changed the channel once they went into commercial
Yeah, delusional Waldo Emerson
Just like you, I love football and lesbians
Never deal with ***, ’cause *** are some thespians
Save the drama for your motherfuckin’ mama
“Oh Jesus, who’s the rapper with the gold ***?”
Put away your money, scrub, I ain’t doin’ no features
This ain’t a motherfuckin’ drill, ***, I’m young Jehova
In the backyard with pads on, runnin’ Oklahomas
Get low