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