Mac Miller
Good Evening lyrics
- Language
- English
- Level
- Intermediate
- Released
- 2010
- Genre
- Pop
- Length
- 4:04
I have no legs
I have no legs
I have no legs
Run by the park and get zooted, bih-?
Uh
Look
Good evening
Yeah, uh
When I party in New York, take the late night subway
Goin' out Friday to comin' home Monday
From all directions never find me on the one way flavor
The rhyme just the icin' on the cupcake, fuck face
My fans notice these other rappers is bogus
I'm supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
And the boy stay, kickin' incredibly dope shit
Make my mama proud 'cause my clothes fit
Travel 'round the globe bitch, on my Lewis Clark shit
Don't matter where I live, 'cause I can tell you where my heart is
I just stay on my side, fuck where everybody at
Tell the planet, "Peace", 'cause I'm gone, I ain't comin' back
Had the whole regular life, I can tell you that I'm done with that
Try to build a mil' off a couple stacks
Own my own business, investin' all I got into these fuckin' raps
Willie Parker money, hand it off then it's runnin' back
Ayo, you fuck wit' dat
Uh, you gotta fuck wit' dat
You in love wit' dat
Look, uh, Mac Miller
Takin' sips from the fountain of youth
If you ain't heard about the kid, then you out of the loop
As I'm sittin' back starin' at this world in my eyes
See out the window in my room that I'm hidden inside
I'm just a kid who stays speakin' and starts talkin' his mind
Like a roller coaster, but I stay along for the ride
Put my heart up on the page and the song gonna cry
There's logic behind the way stayin' caught in a lie, boy
Ain't a shock that I'm a topic of discussion
Motherfuckers want my spot, so they probably wish I wasn't
They give a lil' love like everyone does
In reality, they stoned off that competitive drug
And I don't blame 'em
'Cause those who above me, I'm gunnin' for
Try and make my way to the top, startin' from the floor
And I don't even need to bring a single gun to war
'Cause I be on some shit that they ain't never done before
Takin' over piece by piece, startin' from the core
It's only been a year, I can stick around a hundred more
Said I could stick around a hundred more
I ain't goin' nowhere
Young and so much time to go
Jerm, you might as well keep this one rollin'
I got like one more verse
I haven't spit three verses on a song in a minute
Uh-hum, see if I can remember this one
A'ight look
You can find me in the lab workin' overtime
Smell the weed when you going by, global grind
I ain't just a local guy
When you feelin' stressed out, have an L
Blow money, keep my lady decked out in Chanel
Live fast, when I die better wish me well
Huh, I just hope they servin' beer in hell
Just an everyday story that I'm here to tell
So please, stick around for the epilogue
For anyone who ever blog, prolly heard my name
Hip-Hop's underdog, you wanna win the game
I'm sick of hearin' how music change, never be the same
And these dudes who think they everything and never pick a lane
Call yourself a vet, but haven't won a single game
Mad, every girl got my name imprinted in her brain
Boy, I'm a beast, match the style in bars
Find me smokin' weed where the wild things are, huh
Yes sir
So I mean, I had to take this time
Real quickly, to just go in
I'on know man I feel like you should never stop goin' in on your shit
That's just me
I mean, Q and Treej out there we excited just makin' history
And Jerm of course
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Key vocabulary
- about
- concerningA1
- back
- toward the rearA1
- boy
- male childA1
- build
- make by putting togetherA1
- business
- work or company activityA1
- cause
- make happenA2
- directions
- instructions for findingA2
- evening
- nighttime hoursA1
- gone
- not here; finishedA1
- hundred
- 10 times tenA1
About this song
Mac Miller was an American rapper and singer from Pittsburgh whose genre-spanning hip-hop combined party-starting beginnings with introspective, often jazzy and philosophical songwriting. He first broke through with the mainstream success of Blue Slide Park and later became a self-produced auteur credited under the name Larry Fisherman, known for candid material that culminated in his final album Swimming.