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letra de o.k. - mac miller

[chorus: tyler, the creator]
get ’em mac, mac, mac, mac
mac, mac, mac, mac
get ’em! (get ’em!)
girl, shake that body
get ’em mac, mac, mac, mac
mac, mac, mac, mac
get ’em! (get ’em!)
girl, shake that body

[verse 1: mac miller]
whoa, what do we have here?
people want to know how we could be that weird
how many hoes want to clean mac’s beard?
i k!ll flows, think i need that tear on a tattoo
my b-tch suck, she a vacuum
f-ck her in the -ss everytime 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

[verse 2: tyler, the creator]
girl, shake that body, them -ss and totties
i want to see them cankles at my hotel lobby (no n-gga f-ck you)
b-tch, why you so d-mn sn0bby?
your -ss flatter than the back of my head
i bought you dinner now it’s time to pay me back with some head
or i’ma have my little sister beat the back of your head
i’m a grade-a douchebag, i’m a d-ckhead
-ssh0l- 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, fifth of sherm, think i was sparking up
a bottle of zima, the bimmer, i started parking up
seen my n-gga, mac, and he hopped in the back
and then we jet to fatburger, ordered some big macs
and b-tch came with a gauge, and she wanted my fade
but i’m a b-tch–ss n-gga so i say

[verse 3: tyler, the creator]
t-dollaz and mac meezy
making sure you n-ggas don’t win like referees
looking for the b-tches that love to suck peewee, herman, i’m a vermin
and you could tell i golf with my hat, man, f-ck 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 f-ck 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 t-ts”
keep crying cause i still ain’t over my b-tch

[outro: mac miller]
oh well, it’ll be okay

- mac miller

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