O.K. lyrics - Mac Miller (feat. Tyler, The Creator)

[Hook: Tyler, the Creator (x2)]

Get 'em Mac, Mac, Mac, Mac

Mac, Mac, Mac, Mac, get 'em

Girl, shake that body

[Verse 1: Mac Miller]

Whoa, what do we have here?

People wanna know how we could be that weird

How many hoes wanna clean Mac's beard?

I kill flows, think I need that tear on a tattoo

My bitch suck, she a vacuum

Fuck her in the ass every time I'm in a bad mood

Ain't got a choice, know she do it cause she have to

I hit it raw while I'm listening to Papoose

No respect cause you wear a V-neck

I mean stress, pressure that could even make Keith sweat

I wish Narnia was on a GPS

I wish Rihanna was DTF

I got rich with these rap songs

Bought a drug problem, now the cash gone

Album filled with all sad songs

But this the one that I can laugh on

[Hook: Tyler, the Creator (x2)]

Get 'em Mac, Mac, Mac, Mac

Mac, Mac, Mac, Mac, get 'em

Girl, shake that body

[Verse 2: Tyler, the Creator]

Girl, shake that body, them ass and totties

I want to see them cankles at my hotel lobby

Bitch, why you so damn snobby?

Your ass flatter than the back of my head

I bought you dinner now it's time to pay me back in some head

Or I'ma have my little sister beat the back of your head

I'm a grade-A douchebag, I'm a dickhead

Asshole area where my gooch sag

Little momma got salty at me, she started talking tough

So I called the Wolf Gang up, they start to bark it up

Popped a hundred mollies, fixed sherm, think I was sparking up

A bottle of Zima, the beamer, I started parking up

Seen my nigga, Mac, and he hopped in the back

And then we jet to Fatburger, ordered some Big Macs

And bitch came with a gauge, and she wanted my fade

But I'm a bitch-ass nigga so I say

[Hook: Tyler, the Creator (x2)]

Get 'em Mac, Mac, Mac, Mac

Mac, Mac, Mac, Mac, get 'em

Girl, shake that body

[Verse 3: Tyler, the Creator]

T-Dollaz and Mac Meezy, making sure you niggas don't win like referees

Looking for the bitches that love to suck peewee

Herman, I'm a vermin

And you could tell I golf with my hat, man, fuck Thurnis

[Verse 4: Mac Miller]

I'm at IHOP's and eating with Tyler

Drink cocoa then double-team Mariah

But please, don't tell Nick

We were all watching movies at a Motel 6

Like ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha

I hope Kendrick fuck Gaga

If Madonna on the Kabbalah

Then me and Snoop could chill and be Rastas

I don't need Prada to show you I'm rich

Pulling out the llama like "Show me your tits"

Keep crying cause I still ain't over my bitch

[Outro: Mac Miller]

Oh well...

It'll be OK...