Musical Chairs – Mac Miller

Ayo..
Yo what up Jerm?
Beat’s crazy
‘bout to get my drink on
Go to one of them high school parties you know what I’m sayin? Chyeah

Ayo if you got a cup put it up in the air
And if you smokin’ on a blunt better puff it and share
Y’all know you wake up not rememberin’ last night
That shorty with the ass like the bottom of a bagpipe
Girl sucked my dick like she was swallowin’ a mag light
Gotta get my cash right, livin’ in this fast life
I’m fuc*** up, the room is spinnin’, the ceiling is gone
I’m spittin’ game on a girl but I’m feelin’ her mom
I’m sippin’ Crisie, gettin’ pissy while killin’ in pong
I’m runnin’ tables while my peoples are twistin’ some bomb
Listen it’s on, I’m the man of the night
I shine bright, can you handle the light?
They can’t stand that I’m white
With a ego find me like Nemo
Chillin’ with the homies and you know we let the trees blow
Y’all ain’t makin’ one point like a free throw
Haha yeah.. and the beat go

Get down, get up
Get down, get up
Get down, get up
Get down, get up
And move around, like it was musical chairs
Get ya ass off your seat, find yourself a new chair
Get down, get up
Get down, get up
Get down, get up
Get down, get up
And move around, like it was musical chairs
Get ya ass off your seat, find yourself a new chair

Party hard mu’fucker party hard
Have a ball, laugh a little, hardy-har
You hardly saw shit but now I’m all up in your face
With mixtape money boy, my wallet is a waste
With a rubber band, dutch with a dozen grams
Smoking ‘til I’m off my head
Now everybody do the runnin’ man
We takin’ it back, it’s easy boy
I’m all three members of the Beastie Boys
So fight, fight for the right to party
Everybody stand up like Steve Harvey
I got surfers like “Damn he’s gnarly”
And mother’s givin’ me a free bowl of beef barley
Ridin’ in the back, back
Back on the carseat
Gettin’ out, then pocketin’ in the car keys
Young and I’m reckless, with blunts on my breakfast
And I’m rockin’ more dunks than Garnett gets
Yes it’s Mac.. Mac.. Mac.. Mac..

And I’ma get my diploma
You need to notice I’m a scholar
Runnin’ through the streets ever since I was a toddler
Playin’ cops and robbers
Always was a robber
In my neighborhood all day like Mr. Rogers
Now a little taller, hip hop monster
Eight-legged flow, you can call me Peter Parker
I know you see it boy, I’m weeded and spittin’ it real
To match my style, kid you best be equipped with some steel
My swagger mean, dress fresh and so clean
In a flash, getting change like a vending machine
Then I’m out, pocket of piff, hop in the whip
Head to the first dip at the top of the list
Roll in easy got you drinks for the free
On lean and my eyes still chink from the tree
Hoes out the playpen
Eyes behind some Rayban’s
It’s mayhem livin’ in this teenage wasteland

Get down, get up
Get down, get up
Get down, get up
Get down, get up
And move around
And move around
Get, get, get, get
Get down, get up
Get down, get up
Get down, get up
Get down, get up
And move around, like it was musical chairs
Get ya ass off your seat, find yourself a new chair