Mac Miller
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It Just Doesn't Matter

Mac Miller

Faces


They've got the best equipment that money can buy
hell, every team they're sending out here
has their own personal masseuse, not masseur, masseuse!
but, it doesn't matter, did you know that
every mohawk competitor has electrocardiogram
blood and urine tests, every 48 hours to see
if there's any change in his physical condition?

did you know they use the most sophisticated
training methods from the soviet union in east
and west germany and the newest olympic power
trinidad & tobago. But it doesn't matter
it just doesn't matter, it just doesn't matter
I tell you it just doesn't matter, it just doesn't matter
it just doesn't matter, it just doesn't matter!

even if we win, if we win, ha! Even if we win
even if we play so far over our heads that our noses
bleed for a week to 10 days, even if God
from heaven above points his hand at our side
of the field, and even if every man, woman
and child prayed for us to win, it just wouldn't matter!

I'm jumping out the camino
stepped out the gas station smelling like hot cheeto's
recording soft-core on her tivo, modern meatloaf
re-smoke, got a vegan bitch in the peace corp
all she ever do is ask me what I eat meat for
hold up! Pause!
always up with the quota, boss
wake up in polo, sleep in lacoste

travel across the world, but that didn't phase me
couple people that I know, they happen to play me
once they start to realize that I'm actually crazy
shit I'm actually crazy! Um... And
choo's phone gettin blown up by lyor cohen
christian dior, nothing I'm on it
go to hawaii fuck with samoans

get faded and sleep in the oceans
keep it in motion
I'm rolling, yea, yea, I'm rolling
keep it in motion
I'm rolling, yea, yea, I'm rolling
and your bitch wearing elbow pads
sell her pussy over melrose ave

I've been to hell and back trying to get attached to my better half
never that, the smiles so gone, so bring the coke on 'em
higher than voltron, with a bunch of gold on
caucasians still love me like my name
was michael bolton hold on
do you fuckin' dirty like the soap gone
froze on, it's bone chilling - colder than the pope's secrets

older than capone's demons, coming from
a place where there was no Jesus
walking behemoth, I increase the [?]
cause shit real, fly into your windshield and get killed
buggin' out, had it all - I'm nothing now
I just gave it away
fucking label can't able put a name to a face

um, yea
I bust your speakers with some bullshit rap
I'm on drugs, all my new shit wack
remember that
I ain't ahit but a fraud
but everyone I know ain't nothing to a God
it kills you, it feeds off the earth
a night like this, one of us could get up in the middle
of the night grab an axe and cut somebody's head off
Compositores: Brent Michael Reynolds (BMI), Dominic Angelella, Eric Allan Dan (Eric A Dan) (BMI), Karl B Jenkins (BMI), Malcolm James Mc Cormick (BMI)Editores: EMI Blackwood Music Inc (BMI), Idlabs Worldwide Sound (BMI), Sony/ATV Songs LLC (BMI)Administração: Sony Music Publishing LLC, Sony/ATV Songs LLC (BMI)ECAD verificado obra #32063252 em 23/Abr/2024 com dados da UBEM

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