| 作词 : Mack Ten | |
| On a high speed chase they recognize my plates | |
| Wanted for a 187 in three states | |
| Got my glock cock, mind is ill mental | |
| Blastin' at one time through my back window, shit | |
| Sick individual, murder was my ritual | |
| Mashin' in a hard top four, all original | |
| Bout a dozen of cops all behind me | |
| Mad as fuck cause Ice Cube is my crimey | |
| Like a missile launch led from my pistol | |
| Jumpin' hills like the streets of San Francisco | |
| Hard tryin' to stump him, reload my dumper | |
| Hit the ground, lost my hubcaps and my back bumper | |
| A hundred and ten, Westbound on the freeway | |
| Bo guardin' traffic cause I do shit the G way | |
| Hard to survive, lit up a 45 | |
| No alive instead Mack 10 wanted dead | |
| And it's on, stick to the fire, loop get me high | |
| Drop the four in low, as I smoke the back tires | |
| Peddle to the floor in a bucket low low | |
| One time trailin', hittin' corners, fish tailin' | |
| I continue to cap as the gap starts to pull again | |
| Mashin' through Fullerton, a all points bulletin | |
| Wigs get pilled, nigga, runnin' from the kill | |
| Bugs flyin' into my grill and windshield | |
| Never see trial, say fck tryin' to stretch me | |
| Mack 10 a fuckin' dead man if they catch me | |
| Stompin' through red lights, no headlights on my vehicle | |
| 5150 is my penal code | |
| I empty the clips when I carry'em, aimin' to bury'em | |
| Nigga fresh out the sanitarium | |
| LAPD tryin' to blow off my beanie | |
| Want the whole world to see me | |
| Put my face on TV, for real | |
| Fuck this shit, if they catch me I'ma goner | |
| Runnin' for my life, I continue to hit corners | |
| With my heat, 50 rounds deep | |
| Nigga, goin' down, holdin' trial in the street, fuck it | |
| If it's on like that | |
| It's about who's nuts is fat | |
| And who's straightest with they gat, for real | |
| That's how it be, livin' like a G | |
| It's better them than me facin' strike number three | |
| Heel no, I can't fuck with the lock down | |
| Mack 10'll grab the Mack 10 | |
| And set the glock down and I'm runnin' | |
| Freeze was my order, cappin' at they ass | |
| As I hit the border and I'm gone |
| zuo ci : Mack Ten | |
| On a high speed chase they recognize my plates | |
| Wanted for a 187 in three states | |
| Got my glock cock, mind is ill mental | |
| Blastin' at one time through my back window, shit | |
| Sick individual, murder was my ritual | |
| Mashin' in a hard top four, all original | |
| Bout a dozen of cops all behind me | |
| Mad as fuck cause Ice Cube is my crimey | |
| Like a missile launch led from my pistol | |
| Jumpin' hills like the streets of San Francisco | |
| Hard tryin' to stump him, reload my dumper | |
| Hit the ground, lost my hubcaps and my back bumper | |
| A hundred and ten, Westbound on the freeway | |
| Bo guardin' traffic cause I do shit the G way | |
| Hard to survive, lit up a 45 | |
| No alive instead Mack 10 wanted dead | |
| And it' s on, stick to the fire, loop get me high | |
| Drop the four in low, as I smoke the back tires | |
| Peddle to the floor in a bucket low low | |
| One time trailin', hittin' corners, fish tailin' | |
| I continue to cap as the gap starts to pull again | |
| Mashin' through Fullerton, a all points bulletin | |
| Wigs get pilled, nigga, runnin' from the kill | |
| Bugs flyin' into my grill and windshield | |
| Never see trial, say fck tryin' to stretch me | |
| Mack 10 a fuckin' dead man if they catch me | |
| Stompin' through red lights, no headlights on my vehicle | |
| 5150 is my penal code | |
| I empty the clips when I carry' em, aimin' to bury' em | |
| Nigga fresh out the sanitarium | |
| LAPD tryin' to blow off my beanie | |
| Want the whole world to see me | |
| Put my face on TV, for real | |
| Fuck this shit, if they catch me I' ma goner | |
| Runnin' for my life, I continue to hit corners | |
| With my heat, 50 rounds deep | |
| Nigga, goin' down, holdin' trial in the street, fuck it | |
| If it' s on like that | |
| It' s about who' s nuts is fat | |
| And who' s straightest with they gat, for real | |
| That' s how it be, livin' like a G | |
| It' s better them than me facin' strike number three | |
| Heel no, I can' t fuck with the lock down | |
| Mack 10' ll grab the Mack 10 | |
| And set the glock down and I' m runnin' | |
| Freeze was my order, cappin' at they ass | |
| As I hit the border and I' m gone |
| zuò cí : Mack Ten | |
| On a high speed chase they recognize my plates | |
| Wanted for a 187 in three states | |
| Got my glock cock, mind is ill mental | |
| Blastin' at one time through my back window, shit | |
| Sick individual, murder was my ritual | |
| Mashin' in a hard top four, all original | |
| Bout a dozen of cops all behind me | |
| Mad as fuck cause Ice Cube is my crimey | |
| Like a missile launch led from my pistol | |
| Jumpin' hills like the streets of San Francisco | |
| Hard tryin' to stump him, reload my dumper | |
| Hit the ground, lost my hubcaps and my back bumper | |
| A hundred and ten, Westbound on the freeway | |
| Bo guardin' traffic cause I do shit the G way | |
| Hard to survive, lit up a 45 | |
| No alive instead Mack 10 wanted dead | |
| And it' s on, stick to the fire, loop get me high | |
| Drop the four in low, as I smoke the back tires | |
| Peddle to the floor in a bucket low low | |
| One time trailin', hittin' corners, fish tailin' | |
| I continue to cap as the gap starts to pull again | |
| Mashin' through Fullerton, a all points bulletin | |
| Wigs get pilled, nigga, runnin' from the kill | |
| Bugs flyin' into my grill and windshield | |
| Never see trial, say fck tryin' to stretch me | |
| Mack 10 a fuckin' dead man if they catch me | |
| Stompin' through red lights, no headlights on my vehicle | |
| 5150 is my penal code | |
| I empty the clips when I carry' em, aimin' to bury' em | |
| Nigga fresh out the sanitarium | |
| LAPD tryin' to blow off my beanie | |
| Want the whole world to see me | |
| Put my face on TV, for real | |
| Fuck this shit, if they catch me I' ma goner | |
| Runnin' for my life, I continue to hit corners | |
| With my heat, 50 rounds deep | |
| Nigga, goin' down, holdin' trial in the street, fuck it | |
| If it' s on like that | |
| It' s about who' s nuts is fat | |
| And who' s straightest with they gat, for real | |
| That' s how it be, livin' like a G | |
| It' s better them than me facin' strike number three | |
| Heel no, I can' t fuck with the lock down | |
| Mack 10' ll grab the Mack 10 | |
| And set the glock down and I' m runnin' | |
| Freeze was my order, cappin' at they ass | |
| As I hit the border and I' m gone |
YouTube Results (More on YouTube)