I got seven mack 11s, about eight 38s Nine 9s, ten mack tens, the shits never ends You cant touch my riches Even if you had mc hammer and them 357 bitches Biggie smalls; the millionare, the mansion, the yacht
The two weed spots, the two hot glocks Thats how I got the weed spot I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb spread Little gotti got the shotty to your body So dont resist, or you might miss christmas I tote guns, I make number runs I give mcs the runs drippin When I throw my clip in the ak, 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 sniffed the llello Thats crazy blunts, mad ls My voice excels from the avenue to jail cells Oh my god, Im droppin shit like a pigeon I hope youre listenin, smackin babies at they christening
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