NEBRASKA

[Intro: Mac Miller]
Yeah, motherfucker
What? What?

[Verse 1: Mac Miller]
Yeah, I'm eating shawarma, doing drawings of Chewbacca
Bumping Flocka, fuck the drama
Marijuana been as calming as the fucking Dalai Lama
Your style common as a little league sponsor from retarded kids' fathers
I'm at meetings shaking hands and adding commas to my net worth
Talk about my money, please, some feelings might just get hurt
This the same effect, and less words
Chilling with this asshole, calls himself Sweatshirt (That's me, it's ya boy)
This might be some of my best work (Indeed)
I let these bitches dive in, head first
Applying pressure when I put together letters
I'm a king, I'm a myth, beat a bitch down with my scepter
These hidden treasures feeling better than a million sweaters in Alaska
Your raps are corny as Nebraska
Lacksa-daisical bars, my throwaways will trash ya
High as NASA on acetone, acid foam
Talking trash like John McEnroe
You a little bitch, that's what the fucking Cabbage Patch is for (That's what is for)
Watch me smack a ho, turn around and catapult
Up above my castle's moat, right into my fucking throne (Throne)
They like, "damn, Mac, what the fuck you on? (The fuck you on?)"

[Chorus]
Drugs, thugs, killers, goons, saints, evil, wise, fools, highs, lows, bitches, hoes

[Verse 2: Vince Staples]
Hell's chariot creeping
Her exposure's indecent
Roll is similar to bakers' dough, a bun in the oven
Karma couldn't make her save it though
Just playing my music, you see I speak to her endangered soul
God's son, dick in the dirt because the manger broke
Bitch, I really go bumping tonight
Whether wrong or right, we rushing them right
You know it's never been much for a fight
But I don't really wanna be that nigga
I black out, and you don't really wanna see that, nigga
I mapped out my plan the best that I could to get rich, and put on for the rest of my hood
You know it make us think revenge when the recipe cook
Shoot the leader in the head, leave the rest of 'em shook
"I rap better than most these rap veterans"
Words so real that they had to be said again
Speak sedatives, set a date and we can set it off
Pray I never let that weapon off

[Chorus]
Drugs, thugs, killers, goons, saints, evil, wise, fools, highs, lows, bitches, hoes

[Verse 3: Earl Sweatshirt]
Sober for a sec, but I'm done, so I write easier
That weapon make a peppermint out of that white tee
If you coming, then godspeed you, you sonning me
Don't speak to me crooked, I'm stunting
Look at me Ma, it's no handouts
Sweaty want the dumb cash, I'm done with the bus riding
She made the mistake for thinking he gave a fuck 'bout her
Tell him duck down or get drug out the back door
Flow got the mouth doing duties like the Task Force
Doobie and a passport, standing where the path forks
Quick to grab your bitch's wrist and get the shit I ask for
Wang trashy as bitches in smooth garments, we switching through lanes
Handling business on my side of the line where they ain't having it
You know that sweet talk is cheap
Niggas ain't talking, that's regardless what the docket read
Stop and stare, it's really him
Fresh from out the piggy pen
If I die tonight, then tell my mom I was a pretty bitch
City burning

[Chorus]
Drugs, thugs, killers, goons, saints, evil, wise, fools, highs, lows, bitches, hoes