LyricsGrandpa Used To Carry A Flask

Mac Miller

Last update on: July 25, 2017
1 Translation available1 Translation available
We detected some issues
If you found mistakes, please help us by correcting them.

(Yeah, yeah) What happens when I'm suicidal, vibrations up through my spinal From the hits to the vinyl, my mind will be in the bible

I will see the signs and I'll probably not understand a lot Rode around town yesterday, straight from camelot The prayers are not in common language, they don't mean a thing The evil king of underworlds accumulating bodies This rap shit is turning into nothing but a hobby Cuase' the pussy has already been fucked or in the lobby waiting Dominating the matrix kick it with God and Satan Isolation through my veins, Into these constellations Drug users, they won't let us join the club So now it's spanish bitch massage, give my joints a rub What's the purpose of everything, Who the fuck cares? We run scared, cause nothing fair and we don't become aware Pretend it don't exist, ignorance, the only bliss I think it's me, well I hope it is But no kids and no responsibilities, I'm writing soliloquies And transcend visually, the intelligent idiots who never be serious Cause the world around is fucked up, so we'd rather get fucked up (My grandpa used to carry a flask) As I'm pacing back and forth, waiting till they pass the torch Life a bitch, about forty and a sad divorce, Voice is hoarse Getting harder to speak, remarkable themes Talk mark to the beast I saw them caught on the leash, we walk in common asleep And coffins talking to Steven Hawking, even we see it often So we close our eyes, hoping we forgot to die Shit it must have slipped my mind, why Well, I haven't seen a genuine smile in awhile Mostly everybody stuck in denial So I'm coming out of cryogenics just to taste the air You ain't aware... I'm talking about Natalie the cattle eater With nasty features Rapping with a flaccid wiener (shit), that's only half a Peter Taking out the dogs, murder half a PITA (No, no humus with that) Yeah, look, having conversations with myself, getting into arguments When I'm out in London, I be posted at the parliament Coke in the parliaments, chilling by some monuments Ominous when I feel your body with godly hollow tips Leave you holy, prepare for the apocalypse Sixty thousand on a rollie, cookies with the chocolate chips Rapping hippopotamus, mother fuck a zookeeper I don't do features, I snort glue and shoot ether Hand full of sleeping pills, It's only me I kill I'm Jack, wanna sleep with Jill, she'd spill on my penis drill Mr. Jesus can you save my life (yeah, yeah) Looking at a mans casket (turn him into ham salad) How I'm feeling fantastic (the finish line, I ran past it] Bitches love me because I got a tan phallus (get your house sandblasted) Your damn ass kicked (damn, Gladys) Another fans ballad (And I demand gadgets at the sand palace) For away I Amtrak it (My safe is great, a saint can't crack it) Came through swagging in a all tan wagon With the land of the dragons, I just stand for the balance I'm just trying to play with my band on Fallon, I don't got no talent He's not dead, he's just delicious

1 Translation available1 Translation available
  • 13

Last activities

Translated byG
These lyrics have been translated into 1 languagesThese lyrics have been translated into 1 languages

Musixmatch for Spotify and
iTunes is now available for
your computer

Download now