flash of light, you said lightning could strike From the same place twice, I have your head on my death 1500, tonights your last night gettin blunted "The voices
it That black mask, black glove shit Roll up on him don't budge, bitch With my mack and my tech And my vest, just like that For them niggas thinkin' Mack
was hot Go inside the garbage folder And nigga I'm from D-Block, I'm on 3, 5, 4 I keep my heat cocked and my blunt lit The mack out, take a piece of
hot go inside the garbage folder (SP) And nigga I'm from D-Block, I'm on 3-5-4 I keep my heat cock, and my blunt lit (SL) The mack out, take a piece
[singer]-oohhhh(hold note) [voice]- tell'em where you come in, tell that fake nigga where you come in [singer]-oohhhh(hold note) [voice]- y'all bitch
like snitches out there droppin' dimes, Get yo' shit drawers up out my hamper, the survivalist represent the next black panther [Dee] I hang with blacks and you hang
mack To uphold the pimping, I was sworn to that I hear a lot of shit talking when I listen to rap Only a few MC's get to hang that plaque On the wall
t even taste The California lifestyle that I live Mack these hoes every chance I get Like a drop SL, three times black I'm a pimp, a player and I been known to mack
always will be The city of killers, dope dealers and still we Chill like players, and like pimps Mack all hoes and slap all simps The big badass, I'm from the dangerous crew I just hang
with Mack machines Busting shots and ducking shots with killers right in back of me I never had a choice, I never really spoke a lot I never had a voice
fade away on them Young Tune, no Bugs Bunny bitch And as long as I got a voice, I'm talking Young Money shit, nigga [Chorus] [Verse 2 - Mack Maine]
krs (yes) Take it from the don Where I'm from the man of steel is made of teflon Keep yo' vest on Hit me with yo' best one baby & watch me mack you Comin
.! Californ-I-A!" (repeat 4X) It all started on a Saturday night, I was at the Tilt Faded off a eightball, when I got the phone call I recognized the voice
black and white tube and Mack and the Gene are one of mine show Hangin with Sinead and they sippin on the four-oh Now I know I'm trippin *Martin Lawrence voice
, I float in the air wrapped in a sheet I'm not a real person, I'm a ghost trapped in a beat I translate when my voice is read through a seismograph And
niggas at the crossroads And may the Lord give guidance to the lost souls I know that deep inside these niggas know there's more to life Than macking