The Alchemist and Conway the Machine - Mac 10 Wounds

That's Italian, you want pump or auto?
It's nickel-plated, snub-nosed
Otherwise the same as the service revolver
They're brand-new, we just got them in
That'll stop anything that moves
Just touch the trigger, the beam comes on
And you put the red dot where you want the bullet to go
You can't miss
That .38, it's a fine gun
You know I, mean

Look, I got shot in the helmet and I ain't feel a thing
Sold crack to my mama and I ain't feel ashamed
You niggas talkin' like killers, but won't kill a thing
Might go to the nigga show just to steal his chain
I'll be the first one blamin' a shot
It's like in Juice when Raheem gave the hammer to 'Pac
Watch how I stand in the spot, put the grams in the pot
Flip it twice, might take my bitch to Atlanta to shop
Clips with thirty shots jammed in the Glocks
Bricks from the cartel, naked ladies stamped in the blocks (woo, ON, nigga)
Ain't nothing 'bout me weak, nigga (at all)
Wig shot, I left that spitter in the weak nigga (true story)
I'm just here to get the safe from you
If I don't get it then I'ma just take a bone out your face from you
Them fuck niggas in the hood, they'll fake love you
Next thing you know, they in your bushes tryna wait for you (word)
You got pussy in your heart, homie, I can't trust you (you pussy)
You lose a part on your body when the K cut you (woo)
I say, "Fuck you," nigga
I might drop you from the top of your projects, they'll have to scrape up you
Big dutch and a dick suck what I wake up to (facts)
Fifth tuck when the shit buck, it'll break up you
Uh, Griselda nigga, that's the set
Clap the TECs, savages crash and rest
Snatch the baby out the bassinet

Hear know
Me will shot a man inna him forehead
If a man try slap me up, I will shot a man inna him forehead (yo)
If a next pussy fling a bottle
Me shot any one a unnuh in front a unnuh face
I'ma try this one more time
We down up in here
I want you to know

Look, I don't fuck with a nigga if we ain't been cool
I ain't got shit for a nigga but Mac 10 wounds (brrt)
I spit the illest shit, I vision it before I even pen them sentences
I close my eyes and the pen move, yeah
I see you niggas and your thin jewels
Don't make me show up to your show with like ten goons
Light up the sour and inhale it twice (gas)
A little savage, hit a nigga in his melon twice
Shot up the scene on his pedal bike
His trap hangin' 'round his neck, using the strings from his yellow Nikes
Niggas went from sellin' weight to mailing kites (yeah)
I'm puttin' on so when they home, I can set 'em right (free the homies)
Who you playing with, homie?
We ain't the same, you a lame (fuck outta here, nigga)
Get the fuck up outta my lane, you know the name (pussy)
You say you got guns, it ain't a thang
I will aim, I keep Macs around me like Wayne, mothafucker (brrt)

You get your man from inside the studio, talking 'bout fucking Coli?
I ain't playin', yo
Yo, let tell me you, you wanna get fucked up, yo?
Drive down to Arizona, you know I mean
First off, work out outside, come back inside
You get you a little fever
Then take you down to Arizona
And hit my man Rico
He pullin' up on you with at least four to seven E. Coli's
Take those, and then
Go to the fucking weekend

Written by:
Daniel Alan Maman, Demond Price

Publisher:
Lyrics © Royalty Network

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find