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2 a.m. - maccyp lyrics

[verse 1: banned socks]
grew up
grew up
grew up in a small town
most of y’all never heard of it
so off the grid we got a tv episode when murder hit
they got sam catron packin’ pies
seekin’ re*election
don’t know where i come from
but curb your preconceptions
’bout the false evidence
been thinkin’ ’bout this ever since
you came into the game
lookin’ to blame the president
donald ain’t the source of no ones problems
but on the flip side
of course he ain’t gon solve ’em
stop with the circus
but hand me my balloon clown
levitating while others hating
and throwing down in toon town
guess it was tough
growing up with the c*cks and flunkies
juxtaposed with cucks and hoes
shanks and crank junkies
spank monkeys to pass the time
beat ’em like they owe you money
honey buns and cellophane
tissues cause your nose is runny, b*tch
it ain’t funny
and i don’t know you but sonny
listen to my story
while skies are blue and days are sunny
i’s like i’m so thirsty, girl, don’t hurt me
then i had the honey dump me
kinda stumped me when it turned out
that she didn’t want me
i have to argue that was the turning point
i spent the next six months straight burning joints
medicated, elated, to the point of euphoria
had my cornea bloodshot
but i only got h*rnier
looking for life to f*ck me anyway that it could
scouting for trouble or turmoil
really wasn’t ’bout staying good
askin’ taken girls and underclassmen
what’s happenin’
drivin’ faded on dad’s insurance
banking on no accidents
burning newport reds
like it’s my motherf*cking business
hot boxing, inhaling toxins
exhaling the nimbus, (ahh.)
and a quarter tank of gas would do me fine
long as i get to tap
that piece of ass right on time
i know i’ve got the act next morning
what a downer
but 2 am, the night’s still young
i’m out here tryna pound her
i can sense the animal instinct
i think i brought it out her
moaning loader
hoping for golden showers at the water tower
i been out for hours
tryna douse her in new england chowder
but all the sudden
i don’t know about her?
[verse 2: maccyp]
b*tch it’s m*a*c*c*y and p the mvp
your deity on dmt
i’m pleased to be the realest g
the one you know the one you see man
i’m like f*ck a beat
f*ck a beat
f*ck a beat i bring that heat
i’m chiefin’ weed and slangin’ green
the only thing i’m keepin’ clean
is my soul cause i’m a king
if you mean i bring that beam
i blast your team and stomp your dream
i got a queen who act a freak
she pleasin’ me for just a weak
man f*ck a streak just strip*n*tease
so we can get right to the sheets
you lookin’ at me with two eyes
but my middle one is how i see
so name a price i’ll bet your life
and mop your name up
off the streets
colt 45 with the two zig zags
i just sit back, relax
put in the buds avoiding chit chat
i’m like baby driver with the boom bap
i feel the kick back
light a flame with the bic snap
burn it all with a sick laugh
comin’ back, from my homies
all these hoes they wanna date me
lead them on a chase i do it daily
names are gettin’ stale i change em
never pay em
b*tch i get a salary
from makin’ tracks and stackin’ green
and takin’ fees i ain’t for free
codeine and the double ops
can’t get caught at another traffic stop
askin’ why there’s purple in my clear pop
we just made a banger with banned socks
get the memo i don’t f*ck with bimbos
gottin’ sloppy with a hottie body
man these drugs are mending
but they’ll break a shawty
friend request is pending money spending
that’s a given when i’m tripping
man my crew is like a regiment that’s heaven sent
so i guess this track will be our testament
i test the pest infested waters
full of undressed bare ass impostors
gotta load a choppa just to be a mobster
i’m the monster writing rosters
hope yo name ain’t on my doppler radar
keep it on my mental
several heavy metal pedals in the driveway
bend the axle when i’m driving my way
highway burning stomach churning
b*tch i’m turning in
i lie and say i’m staying late
man f*ck a name i want the taint
i want a b*tch to shake some cake
man i’m f*ckin’ up the function
when i puncture all these junkies
suckin’ up to all the lucky ones
who made their come up
man i’m still on my, soap box
tossing the mic when my flow stops
got too much trust i can’t see the ops
b*tch i’m 18 i’m still sippin’ soda pop
f*ck sending shots
i’m taking hot rockets like black hawk
but you won’t see me down
till my whole block is boppin’ with me
i clocking out
so don’t pout when i’m shoutin’
bout how i made it out the drought
gettin’ called boujee when my b*tch is snapping a huji
really you couldn’t lose me
even if i was snoozing
b*tch i’m bruising and i’m cruising
our haters losing we ain’t gotta prove it

- maccyp lyrics

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