Información de la canción En esta página puedes encontrar la letra de la canción Mac God, artista - Rasheed
Fecha de emisión: 27.03.2000
Restricciones de edad: 18+
Idioma de la canción: inglés
Mac God |
I wake up early to the sticky green on the indonesia |
Give back to the day, the puff, the pint, all at my leisure |
Pleasure and pain, give and take it’s all the same |
So many rotten forgotten up in this dirty game |
I flip a solo to scope to your open pupils |
Stated neutral, weeded up from the indo strupals |
They bust they pistols at my click but they miss |
So being that this is ghetto treason, g’s up in this hatin season |
Through all this anonmosity I keep it playalistic |
Lay your balistic, how to make it and I get it twisted |
You repo what you sold, but if you keep it low pro |
No pis-tol, you bound to gain the heat bro |
Apropriate buisness, associates is a must |
Just don’t get stuck in the dust, and never have no trust |
Lust them, never love a hoe, leave em when they pay |
Looks can be decieving, please believe everything I say |
Gotta get your game and paper right |
The Mac God yo |
Stay on your toes all day and night |
And then he said |
And never ever love a hoe |
The Mac God yo |
Watch for the state and the federal |
And then he said |
Well I woke up with tears in my eyes |
I knew I was finna be player baptised |
He led me to the path blessing me with holy water |
Then he introduced me to his fluffy green daughter |
Her name was Mary Jane, very same girl I met when I was ten |
But I never let her in cuz I wasn’t ready then |
But now your boy’s a player prophet |
Mac God you been so gracious |
You tightened up my laces then you dealt me those four aces |
It was all crystal clear like vodka |
I knew she was my girl since then first day I robbed her |
Eighty seven elbows, sell those, share holds like Melrose |
Cell phones be ringing in my stingin, who the hell knows |
Bring those pop, shoo-be-do-wop like hot lead |
Cuz I’m a pothead, I’ll quit when I drop dead |
Pop said I ran him out the crib when I was three |
I been a g since the third day that me eyes began to see |
Livin life in the world of a pirahna |
Goin through drama with baby mama |
Keepin a player persona, listenin to them old timers |
Criminal grimer, cervesa ain’t as good as bomber |
Hey no need to rush young g, go ahead and take a comma |
You gots to whirl up in your hands with some marijuana |
Don’t worry bout mama, just keep your focus on your dollars |
Don’t be so quick to judge what we do |
Cuz everyday them haters are just waitin to hit you |
And I won’t even mention you gots the killers on a regular basis |
Smiling faces, at the same time ploting on giving you cases |
You wanna roll through there all with your lady |
But regardless you still gotta raise the babies |
And I’ma be the first one to tell you not to love these hoes |
But love your mama, and the though Lord knows |
And actually women be hounding me from state to state |
Guess thats part of the being platinum player paid |