Mac Of The Year Lyrics

Yeah
Nigga, I'm the motherf*ckin' mac of the motherf*ckin' year of the motherf*ckin' motherf*ckin' year, motherf*ckin' year, nigga

I'm a mac, M-A-C and your bitch know it
She can't relax, nigga the bag and all he did was grow it
Ain't shit like this rap and this trap money
Either way, I'ma get paid, that's why I act funny
I'll be dead off the mud 'til she tap my pockets
I woke up out my sleep and took off like rockets
That's your big brother bag, that is not your wallet (Cap)
My youngest son just turned one, I could put him through college (Facts)
I bought the Benz off the lot with the low mileage (Facts)
All cash, no L's, f*ck a co-signer (Facts)
Somebody tell these motherf*ckers, I'm the big timer (Shit)
I'm the reason why these niggas think they big timing
My bitch bring me blues, your bitch bring you problems
You be on that hoe back like a dirty condom (Ha)
I never trip on a bitch I'm a real mobster
I crack a nigga on the field like I'm Shaq Thompson (Mobster)
You ain't get the mud from the doc? I do not want it
All my enemies is dead, I don't got opponents
I drop a bag on your head and watch somebody blow it (Boom)
Yeah, my Perc' just kicked in, that bitch got me goin'
Quarterback with the pack, gold tee, I throw it (Go long)
We ain't never shut down, my trap always rolling (Bitch)
I shopped so much at Barney's, they went extinct Flyest niggas on two feet, it's Chang and SB
Passed up on your bitch, she was tryna molest me
I rock ice and keep a stick like I'm Wayne Gretzky
When I first met the ho, "Can I get the check please?"
Sike, I'm really not that nice, you shoulda went and got a geek
I'm the nigga in my hood, I should have my own street
I send your nigga to the store for some chips and a drink
And he better come back with my change and a receipt
Tellin' Nef he never ran outta gas, they on E
f*ck your grandma that's sick and your partner that's deceased (f*ck that nigga)
His headstone a Porta Potti, we gon' piss where he sleep
I was rich before Roddy and I still keep a gleek
Got so much game, the blind bitch wanna see
Like an inmate, fresh out the hoe, I got mail now (Money)
If you don't see them niggas with me then we fell out
She love when I hop in the booth and go beast
I know the real shooter gang, your friends the police
You be giving them statements, and me? I don't speak
If she ride with the chain, the ho finna work her cleats
I bought a little twenty ounce just so I could drop a three
Beat the p*ssy up for hours, I got stamina for weeks
Feelin' like I'm Austin Powers on this groovy ass beat (Groovy baby)
I can make a square one lady into a freak
I'ma independent P, f*ck this rap industry
The ho told me she ran away 'cause you weak

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