This is a song about "Mac 11"

Then write another hook in my mac book

Dear momma don't cry, your baby boy's doin good

They call me random black never squeezed a mac

But we’ve been going through this thang since way back

It's supper time and i need my cheesy mac

Like bobby had whitney we was cooking up crack

Got more cholestrol in your rhymes like the big mcd mac

I'm paramount, nigga, i am, and you can't be mad

Soon as i turn the bottle more liquor spillin' back

Wall street bankers' wallets get padded, remember freddie mac?

White boi killing it on my mac miller,

The ice ain't really nothing to her

Catch me in the city with the trunk on crack

Play this back or smoke your crack can't fuck with mac...

Little man's disease got you feeling like you're little mac,

Make sure your fuckin' feelings end up up in a glad bag