corrija a letra Letra Child’s Play Freestyle por Mac Miller

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Letra

(Let's keep it movin’, we still in here)
Chyeah, GhostWriter, Ill Spoken (Ill Spoken still in here)
Let's go, man
Yeah, yeah, ayo, look (Can we get [?]?)

Young scholar spittin' with the reckless mouth
Spit it in the kitchen ’cause a n***a dishin' records out
Finger-lickin' messages, verbal kick-back
So I'm pistol-whippin' pessimists (Uh-huh)
So get equipped with extra pins (Extra pins)
I keep writin' without gettin' up to stretch my limbs (Stretch my limbs)
Olympic bars, got 'em thinkin’ I just left the gym
I just left the gym (Yeah), realized how I spread my phlegm
Fam, I define no comparison
Wannabe tough guys [?]
Walk around, pistols on safety like Harrison
Rodney, two points, you walked in
that’s confirmation
Wine and dine, fine vagine
Shorty got to climbin' high (Uh-huh), sh*t was kinda dry
Improvise, got inside her mind (Haha, hey, yo, look at this b*t*h)
Ha, sike, I don’t wine and dine sh*t
Rhyme sick, pull my d**k out in front of a blind b*t*h (Haha)
You can't match the slang, lame, watch me max your pain
Ill Spoken, number one stock in the [?] exchange
Speakin' for itself is my independent spittin' style
Runaway lines, brutalize like a missin’ child (Okay)
I take shots at you rappers 'cause your sh*t is foul (sh*t is foul)
Killed the art, now I'm headin' a vindictive crowd
Ya chick's friends with my d**k, and it's her biggest pal
It's always there to comfort her when she's feelin' down
Dash [?]

Haha, ayo, Ghost (Beedie), let me get in this sh*t real quick
Yo, yo, yo (Yeah)

You say you gettin' paid, boy, you livin' the dream
But you not livin' the life, you just wishin', it seems
You ain't gettin' rid of no weight, you get rid of your cream
Blowin' your whole re-up tryna sniffle with me
Y'all is fake, hustlin', strugglin', listen to me
I spit twisted lines quick (What?), they'll whittle your team
Ain't no need for name-callin' 'cause you know who is, ho
8 Mile, wow, probably listen to Sisqó (Haha)
You Walmart booster, your shirts with the little Ecko
That sh*t has been played out, homie, you need to let go
Askin' me if the city gon' feel you, well, I don't think so
The only lines and numbers that you runnin' is bingo
Oh, you got a couple fat hoes at your shows (Woo)
That ain't enough to make up for your wack flows and your clothes
The whole crowd wishin' they could fast-forward, fa'sho (Fa'sho)
They waitin' for The Ill Spoken, when we go and it blow
How High when I'm blowin' the O
I mean the [?], not a smoke ring, my head stash lookin' cozy
So take a picture, I don't even need to pose (Click)
Yeah, these streets is so cold, man, they frozen (Ha, yeah, yeah)

Ya dig? And that's what it is, motherf**kers (Yeah, yeah)
Ayo, Easy Mac, wrap it up on these motherf**kers (What? What up?)

Listen, I got a dime of haze, I'm about to get high today (Chyeah)
It's just another damn case of some child's play (Haha)
If right, crack spit straight freestyle
Yay have you sittin' on your roof naked, yellin', "I am gay" (Homo)
The nasty rapper, cat that'll smack ya pastor
From massive laughter (What?), [?]
Nothin' changed, smoke weed with an underdeveloped brain
I'm insane, a criminal before the first grade
Shed your bibs, spittin' mad crack to kids
Durin' naps, fill another kid's mats with p*ss
And laugh (Ha) as a teacher, like a cat, would hiss
Slap the b*t*h, told her she was fat as sh*t (b*t*h)
Put a middle finger up, and left class to spit (f**k y'all)
like a asterisk (Haha)
f**kers lookin' for this ass to kiss
The rap I kick, who bust open, crack ya lip
Fat-lipped, lookin' like you just packed a d**k
I'ma run up in ya crib with a mask and wig
Fast and sprint, grab a big bag of sh*t
I'm immaculate as soon as this rap begins

Yeah, y'all know what the deal is, homie
The Ill Spoken, The Scholars, GhostWriter, East End Empire
We comin' up, homie, just get ready
Rated R, DJ Diggz, Big Will
Let's get it, man
Can't forget, [?], I see you

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