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Mac Miller - No Bygones Lyrics

[Intro]
I got this light shinin' in my—
You can turn that light off
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Everything is on purpose
Everything is on purpose, on purpose, yeah
Everything is on purpose, yeah
Everything is on purpose, on purpose, yeah
Mmm-hmm
Hell yeah, okay

[Verse]
You can bet I never tell a lie in my songs
You fakin', how the fuck you coming flexin' with a Scion?
I'm buyin' anything I put my eyes on
No bygones, no motherfuckin' bygones
You need to do better, I keep it hot, I choose weather
That's God level, solid, I'm all metal
You soft Jello, I am flyin' higher than falsetto
What's on special? Short bus dropped to the floor bus
Full course, got her pussy wetter than pool shorts
They waitin', never playin' like the side of the hoop court
Decided to do more, I'm runnin' my own shit
I know I look fantastic, I'm so happy you noticed
You should focus on yourself, why your lips so loose?
You talk a lot of shit, but you don't sip no juice
High on opinions, but you low on funds
Shit, it's my time and it's your time of the month
Rhymin' ain't really nothin' but boredom
I just absorb, then I'm on
Gee, I'm exitin' orbit, but more importantly
I'm gettin' up every mornin'
Too many squares in your circle
You way too out of proportion, so act accordingly
Normally I'm torn between good and bad
How I'm 'bout to knock 'em down, uppercut, hook or jab
I ain't seen this much food since back in cookin' class
Let me see what else inside this goody bag
Everything is on purpose
Temperature is risin', my hand is on the furnace
Adventures of a dyin' breed
I was way too high to even try to see
But finally, I'm glidin' on the surface
JuJu on Burfict, lights out, picture-perfect right now
Not concerned with your bullshit, pipe down
I might just pull up to the White House
Shit... Unlikely
The president say my name again, he gotta fight me
I ain't puttin' that politely, that's word to Spike Lee
Somethin' don't seem right, not at all
Little tiny-ass pants, why your pockets small?
One foot in front of the other, I'm 'bout a hundred tall
Overkill, Jonah Hill numbers with the Moneyball
I called a lot of shots, missed a bunch of calls
See the phone, Al Capone, it's on silent
Home on a solid gold throne, when in Rome
Tell 'em all, "Keep quiet and please leave me alone"