Yeah though, it's the M-A-C y'all
Young M-A-C Mall yaknow what I'm sayin'?
From the Five-Tre-Five crew
Str8 Crestsider, (fa sure)
but I'm in the house wid my niggaaa,
Big Syke from Thug Lige bitch,
Ya know what I'm sayin'?
And it's going down like this...
Verse 1: Mac Mall
Wasted talent, wasted time, wasted minds
Suckas givin' up wid out trying
Satisfied wid ya grind
Farakhan lacin' soldiers everyday but you blind,
Ya best to beware, of this shit called minimum maximum
Cause all the hustlas is catching 'em,
From Crestside to L.A.
Cutty niggas can't dodge no case
Should dodge the bullet, when it's your face,
And I really don't know wid the mell on the glow
But I fits to get it all before the two triple O
Like Feddie and Big Row,
Hennessy so let's toast for my peo-ples
And all the playas and pard-ners that ain't here
For my factors and my folks wid a million years
Wid no chance to appeal,
I know ya thinkin' that it's to real
But playboy this the shit when ya lust for skreel
But if ya get it... huh ya won't look back
Be a certified star wid ya own dope track
No tapes and CDs, just zips and Os
And a faulty fan club known as the po-pos
You won't last long,
So for ya, grand finale
They ship ya ass off to the, fedaralies,
Ya know....
Hook: Big Syke
You got to use what you got,
And do ya best, no time to waste
Don't waste your talent life is full of stress
Verse 2:
A one track mind on the street still sellin' yay
Advance and dance to romance the game everyday
Some niggas do sixteen trife bringin' wifes back
My homie caught four ki
