Funk Flex Freestyle Lyrics

[Verse]
Yeah
Uh, eatin' shawarma, doin' drawings of Chewbacca
Bumpin' Flocka, fuck the drama
Marijuana been as calmin' as the fuckin' Dalai Lama
Your style common as a little league sponsor from retarded kid's fathers
I'm at meetings, shakin' hands and addin' commas to my net worth
Talk about my money please, and feelings might just get hurt
This the same effect and less words
Chillin' with this asshole, he call himself Sweatshirt
I think this might be some of my best work
I let these bitches dive in, but it's head first
Applyin' pressure when I put together letters
I'm a king, I'm a myth, beat a bitch down with my scepter
These Fendi treasures feelin' 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, talkin' trash like John McEnroe
You a little bitch, it's what the fuckin' cabbage patch is fo'
Watch me smack a ho
Turn around and catapult up above my castle's moat
Right into my fuckin' throne
Yo, this man is dapper, manufactured in hell
You candy rappers goddamn disasters, myself, I'm chillin'
Clubhouse, I'm demandin' passwords so villains can't infiltrate
This type of lifestyle that one simulates
My bitch is great, had a dinner date with William Gates
He took her to his big estate, the bitch flipped the safe
Slid, escaped through the kitchen, bang, dipped it down the interstate
Handed me the money, started suckin' me off
This a full-blown virus, we don't fuck with a cough
Made money off the white without touchin' the soft, I'm in there
Million dollars, I been there, 'bout a few times
Mulan, she on the futon, tryna do lines
This coupe, I'm in, highway about a buck fifty
Middle finger out the window, who wanna fuck with me?
I told Dom's and Hodgy, "Stop poppin' molly"
Tryna blow up and die: some real kamikazes
Young fisherman sinkin' in Lake Michigan
Innocence, voice of an angel, some Minnie Riperton
Exquisite bitch, gettin' lit, live from the Wimbledon
Still sinnin', this ill pimpin' is Bill Clinton
She butt-naked swimmin', I'm payin' her no attention
Workaholic, got a TV show
I know you seen the crib, nasty since a youngin' mind
Sanitary birth, watch a beat get buried in a hurst
Yeah, I kill myself
Mac hippie analog, you rap midi, turn the camera's off
I made you snap and slap your bandana off
Your bitch greet me like I'm Santa Clause, mouth wide
I'm high as a satellite, see
I'm in ancient Greece, gettin' head from Aphrodite
Mac is mighty, got a bunch of whitey's actin' like me
I set the bar high

This a bizarre ride, word to Pharcyde
In plaid pants, hit a hole-in-one on the par-five
Eyes closed, drinkin' whiskey, let the car drive
These hoes thirsty, see the dick and they large-eyed
The rawest rapper, baby forehead autographer
On top of Saturn, I'm sendin' shots from a rocket blaster
Believe me, this is where geniuses live
It's Most Dope, be holier than all of Jesus's kids
But we speakin' to heathens and all of these Even Stevens who don't need a reason
Just want a bitch they can feed with semen
No need for sleepin', cheeba gon' keep me dreamin', I'm faded
Been in Cali a little too long, it got me jaded
Hit Japan and I'm Instagramin' camera shy samurais
Fuckin' up a Jerm beat, teach you how to vandalize
The bandana Santana tied

My sound amplified
Screams on Kennywood's Steel Phantom rides
My pockets fat, still lookin' for some pants my size
They over-analyze everything I fantasize
We could have a conversation, we could pantomime
Or you could come a little closer, put your hand in mine
This life a prison, time to set you free
Watchin' movies in silence, describin' what I see
Word

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About

Genius Annotation

Performing on Hot 97, Mac freestyles over the instrumental to Mobb Deep’s Survival of The Fittest.

Some of the lyrics in his freestyle are also delivered in ‘Nebraska’ by Earl Sweatshirt, where Mac featured.

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Credits
Written By
Copyright ©
Release Date
April 30, 2013
Funk Flex Freestyle Samples
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