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Is this muthafucka on? |
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(Check-check 1-2 |
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Yeah bitch, go check your muthafuckin puss |
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Yeah, this's your homeboy Jay from the Romper Room Crew |
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We just lounge here in the Country Club right about now |
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You know what I'm sayin? |
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But now I'm gonna pass this to my young dog Mac Mall) |
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[VERSE 1] |
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Passin Mac Mall the mic is like lighting a fuse |
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To a fat pipe bomb in a packed-ass room |
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Full of broke pimpetrators who be all tryin to dis |
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And them hairshop hoes playa-hatin for the dick |
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Now naw, I can't forget all them rumour-spreadin tricks |
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Chocolate nuts for your mouth when this dope album hits |
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Like a ??hoe?? out of China, ballers say I am a timer |
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Cause I was shootin game since I was a minor |
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Some of these rappers is liars, candy-coated and shit |
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Counterfeit-ass nigga, you can't blow up in this shit |
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I went from bein broke to havin fat accounts |
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From Ben Davis to wearin clothes you can't pronounce |
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From spittin lines to the ladies to bust the game to a bitch |
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First they hung up in my face, now I got em doin flips |
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So when my cuddies ask, "Mall, you stress offa what suckers say?" |
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I tell em, "Naw folks, it's all in the game" |
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[CHORUS] |
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I'm comin up on the playa tip |
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Your boy done bubbled, so be prepared for some major shit |
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Nigga, we comin up on the playa tip |
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(So shake them squares and start chosin on some playas, bitch) |
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[VERSE 1] |
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Still got a Tec-9 in my cream creased Dockers |
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Hang with big timers, hustlers and bank-robbers |
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Players who be real about they money, you know |
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My dick get harder with every dollar, so who needs a hoe? |
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But sometime I like to get my tip ate |
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And if you ain't careful, it might be your bitch, mayn |
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V-Town hog, so I dog her like a doorway gap |
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I'm from the Crestside, partner, and fool, we do em like that |
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One-time, they be on me, cause my pockets is paroley |
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Sippin Hennessy not 40's, stayin far from the phoneys |
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Fuck a homie, nigga, but you can be my cuddy, though |
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You got a microphone, some money, or a sack to roll |
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In the Country Club Crest we can have a choke fest |
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Them six figure-digits got a young mac possessed |
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To the point, if it ain't about money, then it ain't mandatory |
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I keep my business and pleasure in different categories |
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Cause once they mix, then you trip, man fool, you lost control |
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Went broke behind a punk-ass hoe |
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Nigga |
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[CHORUS] |
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[VERSE 3] |
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Dome loaded, ripped off Hen' |
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Hell of g's addin up in my countin machine |
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I count them endless dollars before I have a dream |
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Of a muthafuckin heist or a gafflin scheme |
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P-89 Ruger with the red beam |
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Is the tool I use when I let off steam |
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I'm out here gettin famous, and you're just a fiend |
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That's why everytime you see me you be muggin me |
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Is your system on that morphine? |
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Now did your your lungs get sprung on the ice cream? |
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Now playa-hatin niggas, this rap's for y'all |
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You know I got a middle finger and a cap for y'all |
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As long as my name is young Mac-ass Mall |
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This game won't stop, won't pause, won't stall |
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Now nigga, get rich, read a bitch and kill a snitch |
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But make sure your actin's on the playa tip |
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Nigga |
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On the playa tip |
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You know |
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Yeah nigga |
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We live from the muthafuckin Country Club |
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You know what I'm sayin |
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Smokin the dank down to a nud |
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Ain't even trippin |
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We got bitches all out here |
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[Name] and shit, you know |
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Ant Banks all around this muthafucka burpin and fartin and shit |
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I don't know |
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We just live it, boy |
