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Suplexes Inside Of Complexes And Duplexes
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Mac Miller
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1
[Intro: Mac Miller]
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Might as well introduce
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This is madness!
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This is an outrage (echo)
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As a matter of fact, this is outrageous
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[Verse 1: Mac Miller]
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Yeah, young sire, slap the f**k out Jon Cryer
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Rough rider, raw bust inside a v****a
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Like I want kids, my head continues to be haunted
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I burn a city down while I'm unconscious, baby go on
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Take some quaaludes, conversate with Jesus
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Batting practice with the motherfucking ghost of Babe Ruth
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Do as a saint do, turn painful to graceful
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Devil on my trails, I'm trying to find the Holy Grail
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(Coughs repeatedly)
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Right there
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And if Mars is the farthest that man has set his target
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Then I don't know why I even started
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I'm sick of being too nice to people who don't do s**t but consume light
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Told myself, "f**k the world kid, just do what you like"
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Go and have a food fight, start yourself a new life
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You're too bright to be inside a bunch of mediocrity
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But all those big words ain't gonna get you paid
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And those abstract ideas for sure won't get you laid
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You got it made in that mad house
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What the f**k you got to be sad about? Go ahead a rap now
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Do what you do best, I mean
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That's what you do best, matter fact m**********are
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You suit vest, you need to buy a new dress
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I heard you and your girl live in a duplex
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I'm a put her a** in a Suplex, the sun east, the moon west
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You got a clue, what does a clue get?
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Nothing
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[Verse 2: Jay Electronica]
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My milk & honey, my Cherie-Cherie Amour
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My Cinderella in her carriage by the doorway
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Her ruby slipper made the wizard send the scarecrow
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And the lion through the forest
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To the wicked witch's fortress where she scorched them in the foreplay
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Remember that? He said he'd fight the box to see the wizard
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When he was visited by Dorothy who came here on a blizzard
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Now the whole world's in color, still,
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And Auntie Em was next to Kim and not her mother
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Real, her face was care-worn
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I suspected she migrated to Kansas up from Dearborn
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And had beef with Mrs. Gulch from the very beginning of Year One
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Mr. Candyman, the parables parabolic
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The poetry's like the poems and songs of Ecclesiastes
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Lightning should strike the stone and then Moses should make a tablet
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The Judge will bang the wood up in parliament with the mallet
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And yell "Hear, Hear", finally some order to this rap s**t
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Finally some sort of water to soil these cracked lips
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I keep my s**t crispy and elegant,
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So miss me with the irrelevant, the god body is heaven-sent
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The hard-body is reverence, since the son of Byford
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Brother of Fal, every rhyme's halal
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Every line is kosher, livin' la vida loca
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Shout out to Tony Toca, we livin how we suppose to...
Mac Miller - The Spins | Lyrics
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