Featuring: Jay Electronica

[Intro: Mac Miller]

Might as well introduce
This is madness!
This is an outrage (echo)

As a matter of fact, this is outrageous

[Verse 1: Mac Miller]

Yeah, young sire, slap the $#&@ out Jon Cryer
Rough rider, raw ? inside of ?
Like I want kids, my head continues to be haunted

I burn a city down while I'm unconscious, baby go on
Take some quaaludes, conversate with Jesus
Batting practice with the mutha$#&@ers who roasted Babe Ruth

Do as a saint do, turn painful to graceful
Devil on my trails, I'm trying to find the holy grail
(Coughs repeatedly)

Right there
And if Mars is the farthest that man has set his target
Then I don't know why I even started

I'm sick of being too nice to people who don't do %#@! but consume light
Told myself, "$#&@ the world kid, just do what you like"
Go and have a food fight, start yourself a new life

You're too bright to be inside a bunch of mediocrity
But all those big words ain't gonna get you paid
And those abstract ideas for sure will get you laid

You got it made in that mad house
What the $#&@ you got to be sad about? Go ahead a rap now
Do what you do best, I mean

That's what you do best, matter fact mother$#&@er
You suit vest, you need to buy a new dress
I heard you and your girl live in a duplex

I'm a put her $$# in a Suplex, the sun east, the moon west
You got a clue, what does a clue get?
Nothing


[Verse 2: Jay Electronica]
My milk & honey, my Cherie-Cherie Amour

My Cinderella in her carriage by the doorway
Her ruby slipper made the wizard send the scarecrow
And the lion through the forest

To the wicked witch's fortress where she scorched them in the foreplay
Remember that? He said he'd fight the box to see the wizard
When he was visited by Dorothy who came here on a blizzard

Now the whole world's in color, still,
And Auntie Em was next to Kim and not her mother
Real, her face was care-worn

I suspected she migrated to Kansas up from Dearborn
And had beef with Mrs. Gulch from the very beginning of Year One
Mr. Candyman, the parables parabolic

The poetry's like the poems and songs of Ecclesiastes
Lightning should strike the stone and then Moses should make a tablet
The Judge will bang the wood up in parliament with the mallet

And yell "Hear, Hear", finally some order to this rap %#@!
Finally some sort of water to soil these cracked lips
I keep my [%#@!] crispy and elegant,

So miss me with the irrelevant, the god body is heaven-sent
The hard-body is reverence, since the son of Byford
Brother of Fal, every rhyme's halal

Every line is kosher, livin' la vida loca
Shout out to Tony Toca, we livin how we suppose to..