Of The Soul Remix – Mac Miller

A-yo undress your dollar and sleeping with the scholars
In bed with good and bad biz for the quali-
Fication to have gems played on the FM
Sleeping on us is not possible, the metham-
Phetamine flow keep them narcolepts all on go
Green light and no smoking up that green hype
Keep all your thoughts on haze, the backbones for the sound
Well I don’t sound back in the days
The Soul’s never outdated
Or overexposed or classified as underrated
Though loved by the popular, worthy of the corn
And when the word drops the whole block will warn ya
Told Mac Mill, you ‘bout to mack millions
Millions of tweeters follow ya
A million skeezers wanna swallow you whole
Just watch the game and make sure it doesn’t swallow your soul

Got some soul like De La do, they say I’m new
It’s nothing but some deja-vu
Everywhere you go these people hate on you
Deja-vu, deja-vu
Got some soul like De La do, they say I’m new
It’s nothing but some deja-vu
Everywhere you go these people hate on you
Deja-vu, deja-vu

I love snowboarding, getting my dick washed, writing graffiti
Out in Whistler with a goose on a beanie
I’m mack iller, me and Mac Miller, we mack for realla
Don’t make me go back and jab your gorilla
Smoke mad kush, always in fresh pairs
Favorite kickin’ dunks and fresh airs
Coolin’ under the trees with trees
You know the kid 4-5-6, dice rollers
Put your bitch on her knees
Im stuck making paper, yo f*** what you want homie
The streets is hard luck we rolling with sharks only
Wu-Tang, the gang, the clique
Fuc*** with my favorite white boy will have your head hit a brick
Ayyo, its Pittsburgh Shaolin, we keeping it realer
Just do the knowledge I’m a Pittsburgh Steeler
The hydrogen and oxygen crew
Body count never read, hear what I said
And let it do what it do

Me, Pos and Rae and monopoly
Hit the lottery buying clothes losing closet space
Wu-Tang, De La, Most Dope
So cold, know I’m about blow, my flow’s cold
Deliver the rapper sounds and bringing back to the golden age
So amazed how I go in focused, I can flow for days
Overcame a load of pain, smoking on that novocaine
Love and hate tend to fluctuate like its Oprah’s weight
Motivated off of loads of hatred, yeah they mad at me
Game, set, match motherfuc***, Mac Agassi
You ain’t in my tax bracket, homie, do work
Rapping as bad as Zack Galifianakis needs two ferns
All I need is some marley lean and the tallest trees
Let my dick show like I’m rocking Tally’s jeans
That’s something for the homies who won’t follow me
Plus I’m on that Wu Tang rocking these Wallabees
I bomb atomically but you already heard that
Wanna be like Killa in a mink coat and fur hat
Pure rap with a new way to be real
Word to Cypress Hill, new rappers don’t need deals
F*** a gun bullet spray, my speech kill
Plus my money tall, just to reach it you need stilts
I was a youngin’ coming through on a three-wheel
Now I’m a motherfucking drug, here’s a free pill
Go ahead try it out, have you crying loud
X-factor, I’m Simon Cowell, you Private Pal
So kill yourself boy you Vincent D’Onofrio
Full metal jacket bitch lock and load