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Paper
Bitches
Kilos
Money, money
Money, money, money by the ton
A nigga livin' like Thanksgiving (Way too fat, man)
Gold, diamonds, and rubies (Just flushed out)
Sittin' in the lounge, puffin' on indo
Hoes, Nintendo, and doobies (Lovely)
Brothers gettin' bored from the daily routine
(Let's go deep in the Chevy and look at motherfuckers mean)
Man, those motherfuckers can't ride (Well, it's sad)
Homeboy, you ain't never lied
The motherfucker wise 'cause it's souped up (Souped up)
But if hot ones is fired, niggas better duck
And I'ma make the Chevy run faster than a money counter
Mac D-Shot hangin' out the window with a MAC-10 silent sounder
These are the things you need to know, man
The shit I'm spittin', niggas don't understand
When I first heard this shit, I even tripped
And I made it up, ain't that a (Bitch?)
I was burnt, twisted, full of it and drunk
You know, just like you sayin' forty ain't no punk
Quiet as it's kept, man, this nigga got some game
Turn up for the purpose, you know, not for the fame
This is the shit that will fuck with your brain, boy
It's the shit that will fuck with your brain
This is the shit that will fuck with your brain, boy
It's the shit that will drive you insane
Brothers kickin' it with DeNille (Mac D-Shot)
Gettin' busy 'bout the motherfuckin' mail (Straight paper)
Don't worry about a sucker (A punk motherfucker)
'Cause I throw these things too swell (TKO)
Hopped in the motherfuckin' drop (Like that?)
Struck to the motherfuckin' block (Better known as the spot)
Seen a man in tan tryna serve on my land
And Shot dropped the motherfucker like he was hot (Little ol' punk)
My peoples from the Bay understand this (Like me)
And when shot from my mouth, I don't miss (Bullseye)
A word, phrase, noun, or clause
I'm spittin' game just for the cause (But the energy)
Renee called Nicole (That's my homegirl)
Mac Shot fired up the weed (Zesty)
Nicole on the scanner had heard the word
That D was caught in a high speed (Now that's drama)
In a cell with no bail, so what can I say?
Caught a case of seventeen on his way to YA
Yeah, Solano County sheriffs tried to get with my brother's program
But you know that I know that Mac D-Shot don't give a damn
This is the shit that will fuck with your brain, boy
It's the shit that will fuck with your brain
This is the shit that will fuck with your brain, boy
It's the shit that will drive you insane
It's about cash, cars, hoes, money
Coke, weed, beer and the shit ain't funny
I've been around this type of shit all my life
A nigga can't tell me shit about the price
It's like a school, fool, and I get paid
Haven't any room for any teacher's aide
The bullets that I drop are hot like gonorrhea
See ya
Never learn, and so you burn, my friend
And now you know that niggas wasn't even jokin', man
Niggas try to join my clique so they can get with me
Come to find out the faculty has no vacancy
Ain't that a trip? Ain't that a bummer?
Man, those motherfuckers tried and applied last summer
His bitch is on my tip, man, I can't shake her
I'll send her to the track, tell her come back with paper
I mean mail (Mail?), another word for money (Oh)
I want it fat like King Kong Bundy
Pager boomin' seriously, material bitch in agony
Wantin' me to penetrate the crevice very badly
Get with the program, slut, you're just interruptin'
There's way too many squeezers out there wantin' me to fuck
The Bay Area, my brother, that's where the real shit happens
Niggas don't be barkin', just mackin' and cappin'
Slappin' hoes, triple Daytons and Vogues
Top hat strikin' in the '89 Rolls
Never would let a nigga play me like I'm bad dope
Oh, and my haircut is done by London Pope
D, go get the four-door, mob, station wagon (Like that?)
On the double, 'cause niggas can't be laggin'
Load up the back with the gats, we need a boatload of ammo
This shit is real, not the movie Commando
And this'll be the light-'em-up scandal, and when I'm done
See what I'm talkin' 'bout? Don't take the wrong route
You try to get in the mix and get took out
Yeah, far as you tryna fuck with niggas, man
Who really and truly can't get fucked with, man
You don't understand
It's way too serious on this north side of Cali, man
But you don't hear me 'cause you think this shit is funny
It's about cash, cars, hoes, money
Coke, weed, beer and the shit ain't funny
I've been around this type of shit all my life
A nigga can't tell me shit about the price
Thirteen-eight of cake, it ain't fade
Sliced and wrapped in thirty-six fuckin' ways
Sold to the public, to the boys, to the gangsters
Crews, staff, tribes, clans, cliques, and pranksters
Break down the D, cut it up in Folgers
The brothers with the hearts that roll in my car soldiers
Now I'm gonna stall and pause and take a sip
And finish the remainings of the forty that I ripped
How about that?