[Verse 1:] I been seeing crack rock, since the age of thirteen Out the same crack spot to the same damn dope fiends Burnt up glass and the coke screens You know that balled up cash where that dough cream Hit the block before the birds start chirpin' Scope the set before I serve one person In between cars, never out in the open I don't trust vans and I hate black suburbans Crack that I'm servin', pure buck tour, nigga Uncut raw, nigga. I don't fuck with bake I don't never get stuck with weight Open shot, every smoker with' a straight, brush my gate You ain't makin' no dough 'cause you stretchin' your shit Fuck tryin' to make more, dog, I'm stressin' to flip Keep smokers on them red caps, stressin' to hit Dope fiends with they hair back, catchin' they drip I'm tryin' to show you where the bread at. You catchin' my drift? But I see where your head at, you stressin' to bitch Give me that hot plate and pyrax pop Shit, I'll show you how to fire that rock, supply that block Pee pop set up shop, with' a half a block Lock down half the block Turn that half a block to other half his' block Then I'll lock down the other half a block...
[Verse 2:] I don't give a fuck about the chatter in the background Never put my straps down, nigga This is Mack Town, nigga Ask around, bitch nigga I never was Kept leather gloves and the 38 tar snub On the real, ya niggaz don't know me Don't get found in the lake with' eight shots like Kobe It's the Gouch, what you talkin' bout homie? / I'll make your bus stop short like Gary Coleman "I got more pots and strips then you..." (I make it hot) "... niggaz won't even sell nicks to you." (not a rock) / I spit phrases that'll thrill you I got gats with' clips with' lasers that'll kill you Got myself an uzi brother, nuzi two nines These thugs gon' getcha (getcha), slugs gon' hit cha "I got more gats and tecs than you..." (I'll make it hot) "... niggaz won't even stand next to you" (I tear the rock) When I clap down, back down your wack friends For that "Cash Money, " pull out "Mack 10's" Intro tef, I'm twenty-two (uh) You dudes ain't worth it, keep them funny jewels (whoa!)...
I'm so street like asphault I spit shit like my ass talk, dog, it's Mack Mittens Don't make me raise up and put my hands on you A house sellin raids nigga, I'll put my grams on you Man, I'm so fuckin' deep in the game Got one foot to the street, the other feet to the fame I'm seesaw, tryin' to balance shit out Until then, I got a six gon' silence shit out Wanna make the transition, from the street to the fame But I can't let it weaken my game, man listen Picture Mac flippin' like a transmission Little nickels, with' slick fifty's tryin' to stick me Knowing one shot from a glock could stop my injured block So I quickly move, oars like Jiffy Lube Never-had-it niggas and half the fact that niggas Snortin'-magic niggas or the court rattin' niggasTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
