Black Bush Songtext
von Mac Miller
Black Bush Songtext
Tell me what reality is
All of y′all back on my dick, whoa-whoa
I don't get mad about shit
But did you see that ass on that bitch? Whoa-whoa
No, I′m not waitin' in line
You got a little paper? That's fine, whoa-whoa
Find it hard to make up my mind
All of y′all hate when I shine, whoa-whoa
(Oh) ladies and gentlemen
(Ooh, ah) this is a revolution
On that black bush, smoke a bunch of Backwoods
My mind numb, I′m high as high come
I'm somewhat of a fuck-up
Put it in her guts ′til the cum bust
Combustion, at the function, drunk and actin' as prophets would
When ′Pac rocked with Suge, smokin' blunts at Hollywood
I was a youngin′ who didn't know shit 'bout nothin′
But now I′m 21, and I feel like I'm onto somethin′ (somethin')
Gettin′ emphysema, madder than Ebenezer
I'm a king, bitch (salads, I get a Caesar)
Pullin′ uranium from Mesopotamian rivers
I need a bitch that let me fuck, then make me some dinner
God made me a sinner, followin' protocol
Overall, I'm fuckin′ bitches, and there′s coke involved
Watchin' Carl Sagan, wishin′ I could talk Jamaican
I'm waitin′, be prepared for invasion
Tell me what reality is
All of y'all back on my dick, whoa-whoa
I don′t get mad about shit
But did you see that ass on that bitch? Whoa-whoa (woo)
No, I'm not waitin' in line
You got a little paper? That′s fine, whoa-whoa
Find it hard to make up my mind
All of y′all hate when I shine, whoa-whoa
Ooh
Ooh, ah
I blow a kiss to the Jehovah's Witness
Fuck a corporation, I support local business (that′s the right thing to do)
And this one goes out to all the hoes and bitches
My homies told me, "Better know your limits" (know your limits)
I'm so efficient, old tradition with dope prevision (whoa)
We smokin′ if we here, homie, don't need no permission
Variation of avian in the atrium
Waitin′ for nature's rain to shower y'all with some sense
Shit, life gets realer than the press kits
Special like Ed is, so someone call the medic (medic)
′Cause I lost my mind, I′m off the Richter scale (Richter scale)
Don't you worry yourself, baby, this is Hell (woo)
Product of a witches spell, rappers all Chippendale
I′m gettin'-gettin′ money now, expensive ginger ale (taste good)
Sip the whiskey with a bitch named Lewinsky (ha-ha)
Told her, "Give me head and tell everybody" (tell everybody, let 'em know)
All of y′all back on my dick, whoa-whoa
I don't get mad about shit
But did you see that ass on that bitch? Whoa-whoa
No, I′m not waitin' in line
You got a little paper? That's fine, whoa-whoa
Find it hard to make up my mind
All of y′all hate when I shine, whoa-whoa
(Oh) ladies and gentlemen
(Ooh, ah) this is a revolution
On that black bush, smoke a bunch of Backwoods
My mind numb, I′m high as high come
I'm somewhat of a fuck-up
Put it in her guts ′til the cum bust
Combustion, at the function, drunk and actin' as prophets would
When ′Pac rocked with Suge, smokin' blunts at Hollywood
I was a youngin′ who didn't know shit 'bout nothin′
But now I′m 21, and I feel like I'm onto somethin′ (somethin')
Gettin′ emphysema, madder than Ebenezer
I'm a king, bitch (salads, I get a Caesar)
Pullin′ uranium from Mesopotamian rivers
I need a bitch that let me fuck, then make me some dinner
God made me a sinner, followin' protocol
Overall, I'm fuckin′ bitches, and there′s coke involved
Watchin' Carl Sagan, wishin′ I could talk Jamaican
I'm waitin′, be prepared for invasion
Tell me what reality is
All of y'all back on my dick, whoa-whoa
I don′t get mad about shit
But did you see that ass on that bitch? Whoa-whoa (woo)
No, I'm not waitin' in line
You got a little paper? That′s fine, whoa-whoa
Find it hard to make up my mind
All of y′all hate when I shine, whoa-whoa
Ooh
Ooh, ah
I blow a kiss to the Jehovah's Witness
Fuck a corporation, I support local business (that′s the right thing to do)
And this one goes out to all the hoes and bitches
My homies told me, "Better know your limits" (know your limits)
I'm so efficient, old tradition with dope prevision (whoa)
We smokin′ if we here, homie, don't need no permission
Variation of avian in the atrium
Waitin′ for nature's rain to shower y'all with some sense
Shit, life gets realer than the press kits
Special like Ed is, so someone call the medic (medic)
′Cause I lost my mind, I′m off the Richter scale (Richter scale)
Don't you worry yourself, baby, this is Hell (woo)
Product of a witches spell, rappers all Chippendale
I′m gettin'-gettin′ money now, expensive ginger ale (taste good)
Sip the whiskey with a bitch named Lewinsky (ha-ha)
Told her, "Give me head and tell everybody" (tell everybody, let 'em know)
Writer(s): Taylor Stephen Graves, Stephen Bruner, Malcolm Mccormick Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
