Bird Call (Live) - Mac Miller
Quack, quack
I'm chilling for an hour, smoking weed, watching Worldstar
Benz in the garage, probably got to drive your girl car
You ain't a rapper, my homies never heard y'all
I just spit a punchline, so now I need a bird call
Hit your sister in the face with a Nerf Ball
I'm dealing with some sh*t that really don't concern y'all
Punch a fan if you get a f*cking word wrong
I'm wavy, get me some sh*t that you can surf on
Finding me a b*tch I can swerve on
Frank Thomas homie, about to put the hurt on
Your b*tch at night lie in bed, she turned on
Throw some weed, tell her burn one
Burn one, burn one, burn one, burn one
Burn one, burn one, burn one, burn one ...
Yea, I used to give a f*ck about success
Now I just want to see Mila Kunis undress
Posted down for buttsex, it will be a cum fast
Sorry that's some sh*t I had to confess
Crazy ass b*tch doing 911 threats
Came in the game smoking Newport Hundreds
Now I'm at the top and the crown fit
Gold on my outfit
Surrounded by this pussy, I'ma drown in
Got that wet pack, b*tch come and give me that
You know we wanna know where them titties at
Got 'em gassed, they be asking what I'm cooking with
Have your little brother asking moms where the pussy is
Corruption, stuntin' at the function
Your girl pussy smell like Sour Cream & Onion
Pay attention, you'll learn something
Roll that weed up, burn one
Burn one, burn one, burn one, burn one
Burn one, burn one, burn one, burn one ...
Put up your hands
We na say say ... thank you