Uhh
I got seven Mac-11's, about eight, .38's
Nine 9's, ten Mac-10's, the shits never end
You can't touch my riches
Even if you had MC Hammer and them 357 bitches
Biggie Smalls, the millionaire, the mansion, the yacht
The two weed spots, the two hot glocks
HAH, that's how I got the weed spot
I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lambsbread
Lil' Gotti got the shotty to your body
So don't resist, or you might miss Christmas
I tote guns, I make number runs
I give emcees the runs drippin';
when I throw my clip in the A.K., I slay from far away
Everybody hit the D-E-C-K
My slow flows remarkable
Peace to Matteo
Now we smoke weed like Tony Montana sniff the yayo
That's crazy blunts, mad L's
My voice excels from the avenue to jailcells
Oh my God I'm droppin' shit like a pigeon
I hope you're listenin', smackin' babies at they christening
So you better grab your pistol
cause if you sit still, I'm gonna make your f**kin shit spill
And I'm talkin' bout buckets, why did I have to do it?
Sadat said f**k it, you got a gun, n**ga bust it
Cause I got mo' shots to pop-ya
Big Pop-pa, breakin' you off somethin' proper
Signin' off is the hardcore rap singer
a.k.a. crack slinger, bring it anytime n**ga
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