"Face The Facts" lyrics - MAC MILLER

"Face The Facts"

Just a display of rhyme skill man, that's what it is

92 Till Infinity and beyond and beyond

Alright look, muthafucka still rap, biatch!

[Verse 1: Mac Miller]
Hey, when I was 15 it was my dream to work with Preem
He believe in what I do, so now he's makin' this beat
And I'm writin' these rhymes, makin' sure that I kill it
Shinin' like I'm acrylic, the government can't conceal it
My style they tried to steal it, 'cause people startin' to feel it
I'm goin' on these adventures, somethin' like on a field trip
And now I'm growin' up, lookin' around this planet
Some shit be goin' on and I just can't understand it
No need to panic, I, got it expanded
Is a million downloads I'm takin' over ya bandwidth
Moments all candid, Kodak,reminisce and go back
Life real good want ya'll to know that
Don't have no deal and no half a mill
Just on my Gang Starr shit with some Mass Appeal
Go platinum independently, incredibly dope
You need a telescope to come and get at me
The naked eye could never see, and lebel my identity
They see my middle finger, shut the fuck up and let me be
That's how it's always been and how it will be
Filthy ass rhymes, makin' money, but I'm still me
Flippin' the mics, spittin' this nice
Never could get everything that I liked
Now I can cop it no matter the price
Fuck it forget it I'm rappin' for life
Can't tell me shit, I got my own mind
6 in the mornin': that's go time

[Verse 2: Mac Miller]
Had to take the beat and let it breathe, using up the oxygen
The kid he go and rock and there ain't nobody that stoppin' him
Poppin' up, bars on bars, you see me stockin' up
Working every second of the day is still not enough
Not on that cocky stuff, want ya'll to acknowledge us
If you don't suck my dick bitch, esophagus
You probably just go all on the internet
See a conversation then you feel the need to interject
I ain't finished yet, you don't think this kid a threat?
I'm on a?
You an MP3, I'm still in cassette, vintage yet
Futuristic with some shit that split your deck
My cadence complex, rhyme without a concept
Atomic rhymes, you just a stupid fake bomb threat
6 in the mornin' and I'm writin' these ryhmes
Workaholic, so you know that every night is a grind