[Mac Miller:] Somebody told me sleep was a cousin of death And followin’ a dollar finds nothin’ but stress A marathon grind like I’m runnin’ from rest It’s (Five o’clock in the morning) Somebody told me sleep was a cousin of death (Uh) And followin’ a dollar finds nothin’ but stress (Yeah) But I’m goin’ hard ’til there’s nothin’ left under my chest (Ha ha)
The streets empty ’round five o’clock (Uh-huh) Driving by the cops (Chyeah) Low key microscopic to the eyes that watch (Uh-huh) Everything a hustle when you trying come buy some guap I’ma keep grinding ’til I’m shining like a diamond watch (Uh-huh) Me and Bo-head bringin’ you the truth (Truth) With all night sessions we just living in the booth (Yep) Strong bars like we spittin’ out hundred-fifty proof Take shots, get loose (Oh), ’til you spittin’ up yo’ food (Oh), like, “Oh” You see that? I’ma need a recap Grab a weed sack, chief that ’til my feet flat I got this covered like a Pro Bowl D-back Breathe rap and I been known to make the beat clap (Ha ha) Need cash so I’m tryin’ move some trees fast Tell you where the meat at, ask you where the cheese at (Yo) People ’round the city see the youngin and respect the grind (Oh) Puttin’ in the extra time (Oh), guaranteed next to shine
Somebody told me sleep was a cousin of death And followin’ a dollar finds nothin’ but stress A marathon grind like I’m runnin’ from rest It’s (Five o’clock in the morning) Somebody told me sleep was a cousin of death And followin’ a dollar finds nothin’ but stress But I’m goin’ hard ’til there’s nothin’ left under my chest
[Boaz:] I rise before the sun come up and get my day started (Chyeah) Pray to the most high, I roll up my haze and spark it And then my paper starts to roll in Money in paper bags, hammers with laser tags We grown men Out on the corner ’til the early morn’ The blood of a hustler getting mines before I was born You get scorned by these hot-ass bars From me and Easy Mac Cruisin’ in the ‘Lac smoking weed with no seeds in that (No seeds) There ain’t no reason that these other rappers hatin’ on us (Why?) Except these labels anticipating and waiting on us They get the BBSs, radios play us Then we blaze in the Benzes And sit this off on BBSs And from P.A. to Texas These niggas know about me International hustler can’t move no snow without me Or get no dough without me Niggas gettin’ they’re stacking on Early bird get the worm I’m out here at the crack of dawn
[Mac Miller:] Somebody told me sleep was a cousin of death And followin’ a dollar finds nothin’ but stress A marathon grind like I’m runnin’ from rest It’s (Five o’clock in the morning) Somebody told me sleep was a cousin of death And followin’ a dollar finds nothin’ but stress But I’m goin’ hard ’til there’s nothin’ left under my chest