Mac-10, you know your rule, hip-hoppin'.
Ice Cube, you know your rule, hip-hoppin'.
Mac-10, you know y'all rule hip-hoppin'.
Wait a minute, they ain't how the West Coast rock, nigga.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Thank you.
Hey, what's up?
What's up?
Mac if they come, leave a race.
Damn, and none from the waitstamp.
It's a Sunday, a gun day, rolling down one way.
In my lack, front and back, over train tracks On Jack and Irv, niggas swerve It gets on my nerve, bank my Dana's on the curve
In the gutter lane, I'm butter main.
Foot to the floor, what you want from the stone?
I'm broke as a motherfuckin' nigga, but I'm a single Comin' from Engle, it's my jingle
See a bitch at the store cut a thug up But niggas start to handcuff they hoes like T.J.
Parker
I'm a vet, you can bet that I could dance underwater and not get wet.
It's the happy-headed nigga that can kill it, rap.
Everybody run when I bust a trap.
Putting Inglewood up on the map.
Look at what I do when I pulse my strap.
Bust two rounds, a nigga's about to clown.
Bitch, hit the silent alarm, it's going down.
For life.
My
Bellin' through the field.
Subscribe.
Mac-10, bailin' through the pill with the scribes.
Kaki Soon-Ski masses my pride.
With my luck, cut my chucks on the bye-bye food Where you keep the rips and ties, but your life expires
I'm as nutty as Michael Myers.
Didn't think about the Rockwaller.
A lot of stitches in the ass.
Blood in the Impala.
Sittin' in the county with a gold record Ice cubes, send me pictures, a picture's naked
Caught with a contraband in my hand, Mack take the stand.
Your honor, I'm a changed man.
So please let me go so I can flow.
Got a show.
Had to ask the P.O.
Can I go?
And if you say no, I'm going to have to say, bitch, get out the
car slow and leave your fucking goat cause a nigga gotta eat fuck the world let the bullets hurl and feed my baby girl vote live
Mac-10, telling the group to strive for life.
Call there's a son of a bitch on the roof.
Germed up in his birthday suit.
Make to the rescue.
My mama want to know why I do what I do.
Cause I'm super mad, super bad, super mad.
Super fly, fool, you can die.
There's gonna be a lot of cars with their lights on.
And I'm at home sewing stripes on.
Cause I'm a general and use a stowaway.
About to bust you down with a stowaway.
With no serial numbers.
It's the summer when niggas die.
It's hotter than July.
You better stay low before you get a head blow.
Plus wings and a gown when I come around.
So take ten paces and try to guess the color of my shoelaces.
So lie!
MAC-10!
Bill and the Brazil Construct!
So lie!
Vote live.
Vote live.
My billion subscribers.
Oh my.
Oh, my God.
Yeah.
Bye.
Bye.
Oh, yeah.
All right.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Oh, yeah.
All right.
