[Intro: Mac Miller]
Yeah, okay
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, I'm on yo' head
Yeah, I'm on yo' head
Okay, I'm on yo' head
I'm on yo'— (Yeah)

[Verse 1: Mac Miller]
Okay, I'm on yo' head like a bookie when you overdue
Been dead, I just wrote the tune
I'm CNN to the local news
See, what I do inside this vocal booth
Can only be described as a screw when it's goin' loose
I know the truth is only spoken to a chosen few
Know the rules get broken like a bone when I get hold of you
So don't you move
Hotel room of hoes come with ocean views
Heaven here below the roof
Heaven here below the roof
She lick the liquor off me
It's a hobby tryna keep all of these bitches off me
When they really want me, and the
Dick is godly, stick is Crosby
It isn't hockey, but this game is cold as veins that flow within a zombie
Bless you when I'm in your body
The main event on every television set, so don't forget to watch me
Became rich, I ain't been the same since
Now my whip speak a different language, and it's always talkin'
[Chorus: Mac Miller & Choo Jackson]
I'm no angel, no wings, no halo
I got vices too
Woah, woah, woah, woah
I get fed up and I get fucked up
Said, I got vices too
Woah, woah, woah, woah

[Post-Chorus: Choo Jackson]
Jameson and ginger ale, please
I'm stressin', gotta get this cheese
[?]
Jameson and ginger ale, please
Jameson and ginger ale, please
(Bartender! Bartender!)
Jameson and ginger ale, please

[Verse 2: Choo Jackson]
I know I'm hard to handle
Lookin' for me, find me at the bottom of a barrel
Yeah, work some other cheap skirts like old Camaro
Lookin' like a pharaoh
Can't find the actavis, these n***as sippin' yellow
I thought I always had to drink to try to fight depression
Now I go and spend the bank up on a normal necklace
Now I'm jumpin' in these bitches just to ease the pressure
I always keep the golden glover, that my lethal weapon
I always had the crazy visions of the foreign vessels
Stressed out, pop a blood vessel
Took off like a skud missile
Listen, man, I always been in rule since middle school
Gotta stay fucked up, that's the golden rule
Ain't too much to prove
They wanna drink the juice, so they gotta squeeze the prune
Got bills while I'm lookin' for a freak
God, I'll deal with that shit next week, next week
[Chorus: Mac Miller & Choo Jackson]
I'm no angel, no wings, no halo
I got vices too
Woah, woah, woah, woah
I get fed up and I get fucked up
Said, I got vices too
Woah, woah, woah, woah

[Post-Chorus: Choo Jackson]
Jameson and ginger ale, please
I'm stressin', gotta get this cheese
[?]
Jameson and ginger ale, please
Jameson and ginger ale, please
(Bartender! Bartender!)
Jameson and ginger ale, please