Crestside 2 Fillmoe

Mac Mall

    Continues after the ad

    [Mac Mall]

    Uh, we in the Village!
    We in the Village nigga!

    [JT]

    Figgaro-Messy Marv production

    [Mac Mall]

    It's Mac Mall, Baby Capone in the Crestside of the Valley-Jo, hooked up wit
    my dogs from the Filthy-Mo!

    [San Quinn]

    An if you don't know about it, then ask yo hoe about it.
    Cuz it's goin down nigga!

    Continues after the ad

    One time.
    Two times.

    [Verse 1: JT Tha Bigga Figga]

    I slap some twinkies on my two-door Camaro
    mucho dinero
    traded a fuel injected carborator for a hottie 4-barrel
    ship kits fo' Cam
    break down the grams on the dash
    put the 4, 15's wit the Floor Masters hangin out the ass
    an we love to smash
    back to back in Vett's and Jags
    from the west coast California where them ol skools act bad
    wit the rest of the fam strikin in hot Vogues an shit
    quick to scratch up a playas pocket an keep on poundin this shit.

    [Verse 2: Mac Mall]

    Appear quiet, bust in my grill
    young titan wit the toys concealed
    big nuts an nerves of steel
    got money to make
    I'm bout to serve Francis Drake
    pullin hundreds an toss the keys to LA
    boss ballin in Green Bay
    as the hood take brothas
    under
    we be countin crispy federal notes
    cuz I ain't tryin to sell dope
    in 2-triple-0
    white folks knock my hustle
    like I'm the mayor of the City Of Dope
    me an my thugs hit the lobbies
    looking like we'll smuther everybody
    kamakazi bout this money don't try me
    my cuddie
    my cromies
    in this, we the titans to meet
    juss a day in the life of the elite
    so don't hate me, hate the game
    you hate it cuz you workin wit small change
    Sucka who's to blame?
    Matter fact don't answer that
    you'll probably say some square shit an Mackin' Ass gon' have to put you on
    your back
    you can't touch me
    you way to pussy
    you besta come wit mo than some choppas to try an rush me
    it's Mac Mall, Baby Capone
    I hooked Vallejo wit the 'Mo an now we paper chasin outta control!
    (Whoo! Whoo!)

    [Chorus: JT Tha Bigga Figga]

    By now you know the name (know the name)
    done brought ya that "Game Recognize Game" ain't a thang changed
    from the Crest 2 Fillmoe (Fillmoe)
    we Mobb slow
    in 3-C down bitch you know the rules hoe.

    [Verse 3: San Quinn]

    By know them niggas know
    don't lose focus tryin to scope us
    watch us like the rollas
    get in closer wanna blow us
    I'm the playa that don't play no games
    keepin suckas out my range
    you crooked to the game
    feel the fire as I flame
    every verse aimed at yo brain
    the pencils in yo house ain't
    you need to watch yo spouse mayne
    she all in my mouth mayne
    starring at my gold
    she creep like a mouse mayne
    juss thought I'd let you know
    the falsified on dime
    real G's kill 'em all
    if you Mac'in keep it crackin like my nigga Jamal
    if I fall
    I bounce back like elastic
    on bastards
    through the "Total Recall"
    on phony stars as we mash in
    for hoes, it's hard to get at ya
    we down cash advancements so fresh you'll figure fashion
    crashin the cars
    an dismatling marks
    fake niggas wit no heart they get they ass ripped apart
    we sharper than a needle, an I bust it wit my people
    get leathal if I hit ya wit this sleeper
    ain't too hard to reach ya
    like a teacher seat ya in a corner like a dunce
    cuz ya known as a clone and performer of them stunts
    and I'm tired of givin warnings to punks
    thinkin cuz we rappin, we about to front
    you be the first to see a hearst chump
    I know you don't want no funk
    I see you niggas shakin
    all up, up in this game
    but you suckas fakin.

    [San Quinn talking]

    Yeah. I'm doing this for my homie Kareem.
    It's ya nigga San Quinn, JT an Mac Ass Mall.
    (Fa sho)
    Fa all ya'll.
    Bouncin in yo trunk it's this Yay Area bump.
    Yeah you know what I'm talking about.
    For all you niggas and you bitches.
    Feel the dope to this realness.
    For the 9-8 to the 9-9 to the year 2000.

    [JT talking]

    What, what?
    We finna put it down. We put it down.
    9-8, 9-9
    Uh
    9-8, 9-9
    The year 2
    2-triple-0.
    A Figgaro-Messy Marv production.
    Late night in the Laboratory.
    Whippin it.
    Puttin it down as usual.
    Campaingin an maintainin.
    Oh, it's goin down.
    Uh, it's goin down.
    Uh, an we out.
    An we out.

    Song details

    Composition: Mac Mall, San Quinn, Messy Marv, and J.t Figga

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