[Verse: Mac Dre]

If I ain’t drunk now, I’m finna be

I’m  full of the Remy, ready to engage the enemy

Push  the extremity, hear me, and don’t let up

Use his bitch to set up, and then wet up

Nigga, shut up, you ain’t got my mail yet

Get  hit with the Kel-Tec, with the shell-catch

My  bitch mail-fetch, sell sex, she rich

I check ill traps and will slap the bitch

So  cold, my little niggas from the North Pole

Put ya in a chokehold and shoot up your Ford Probe

Apply force, we a mobile strike force

Put 365 horse in a tight Porsche

When  my source gives me the coordinates

I sic ‘em, get ‘em, hit ‘em with the pair of ordnance

You insubordinates get the cutthroat guillotine

Ya-da-di-mean? Nigga, this the killa team

[Chorus: Mac Dre & Mac Mall]

They on it, they want it, these niggas ask for it

They on it, they want it, these niggas ask for it

They on it, they want it, these niggas ask for it

They on it, they want it, these niggas ask for it

[Outro]

- Talk to the hand 'cause the face don't wanna hear it anymore

- What hand? Talk to your hand?

- You ain't all that and a bag of potato chips

- What are you talking about?

- Don't go there, girlfriend, mhm

- Whose girlfriend?

- Don't mess with me, I'm one crazy mofo. I had to pop a cop 'cause he wouldn't give me props in Oaktown. No? I heard that somewhere