LE SON DU JOUR : Mac Miller ft. Sean Price, « Pet Sounds »

Le samedi 8 août 2015, Sean Price est décédé subitement dans son sommeil. Nous lui avions rendu hommage comme beaucoup d'autres dont Mac Miller. Pour soutenir la campagne de donation à la famille de Price, ce dernier a décidé de révéler et de mettre en écoute un titre exclusif en collaboration avec le défunt rappeur : "Pet Sounds" "I wrote this under the influence of narcotics Yeah Play them horns! Young raspy god Why you fucking up my good mood? The Bimmer used but it look new Your raps dry as over cooked food My shit is kaboom I took shrooms Now I'm playing dodgeball in a crooked room So address me as your superior Mind on delirium, ice cold interior Stirring up the chaos, I'm the cause of the confusion Young grown ass nuisance with the strength of 22 men Puking all over your brand new accoutrements Lucrative, assassin them but shoot to miss I turn my body into Eucharist Nail me to a crucifix If I'm gonna kill myself then I'mma do it big Scamming Mount Vesuvius We don't even know what being human is And what's a man when he loses wits? Useless as the news at 6 Fools mean nothing but a bunch of rotten and stupid kids I wanna, I wanna punch you (punch you) I wanna, wanna, I wa- I wanna punch you (punch you) I wanna, I wanna punch you in your fucking face (Oh bitch!) You live inside a computer In 2014, a legend turn to rumor Manuever through the world in an Uber Born to be a loser to the world, I'm just a tumor they’ll remove If I would've done my schoolwork I could've been an Oklahoma Sooner with a golden retriever I named Cooper Part time at Kruger’s Working on securing me and future the American dream Big titty bitches guaranteed a spot on the team Bust inside my pants, leave a spot on my jeans Clean it up Why pretty girls always mean to us I'm the Godzilla of mess Leave my house forgetting that I'm still in a dress *gun sounds* Gun sounds, gun sounds I wanna, I wanna punch you (punch you) I wanna, wanna, I wa- I wanna punch you (punch you) I wanna, I wanna punch you in your fucking face (Oh bitch!) Yeah I wanna, I wanna punch you I wanna, wanna, I wa- I wanna punch you (punch you) I wanna, I wanna punch you in your fucking face (Oh bitch!) I'm worldwide but I smack clowns local Gunshots, MOP background vocals Fire in the hole of the designer of your clothes I'm the up and up you fucking up, why you fucking with those Planet of the apes, the survival of the goons I'm so dope, you could put the lighter on the spoon I'm tightest with the tombs, need a verse and I write it son Master this shit with no practice bitch, Al Iverson Fuck the king of New York, in my presence they all peasants The king is all talk Whoever holding the crown Better pass that shit to me, P I'm holding it down Fuck you if you the greatest A lot of rappers got killed, fuck around and be the latest Your bars warm, my shit smoking I pitch [?] I'm Chris Copeland Yeah I wanna, I wanna punch you (punch you) I wanna, wanna, I wa- I wanna punch you (punch you) I wanna, I wanna punch you in your fucking face (Oh bitch!)"