Mac 10 Wounds (feat. Conway)

That's Italian. You want pump or auto?

It's nickel-plated, snub-nosed,

Otherwise the same as the service revolver

They're brand-new. We just got them in

That'll stop anything that moves

Just touch the trigger,

The beam comes on and you put the red dot

Where you want the bullet to go. You can't miss

That .38, it's a fine gun

Look, I got shot in the helmet, and I ain't feel a thing

Sold crack to my mama and I ain't feel ashamed

You niggas talkin' like killers, but won't kill a thing

Might go to the nigga show just to steal his chain

I'll be the first one blammin' a shot

It's like in Juice when Raheem gave the hammer to 'Pac

Watch how I stand in the spot, put the grams in the pot

Flip it twice, might take my bitch to Atlanta to shop

Clips with 30 shots jammed in the Glocks

Bricks from the cartel, naked ladies stamped in the blocks (Woo!)

Ain't nothing 'bout me weak, nigga

Wig shot, I left that spitter in the weak nigga (True story)

I'm just here to get the safe from you

If I don't get it then I'ma just take the bone out your face from you

Them fuck niggas in the hood, they'll fake love you

Next thing you know, they in your bushes tryna wait for you

You got pussy in your heart, homie, I can't trust you (You pussy)

You lose a part on your body when the K cut you (Woo!)

I say "fuck you!" nigga

I might drop you from the top of your

Projects, they'll have to scrape up you

Big dutch and a dick suck what I wake up to

Fifth tuck when the shit buck, it'll break up you, uh

Griselda nigga, that's the set

Clap the TECs, savages crash and rest

Snatch the baby out the bassinet

Yo!

I'ma try this one more time

We down up in here

I want you to know-

Look, I don't fuck with a nigga if we ain't been cool

I ain't got shit for a nigga, but Mac 10 wounds

I spit the illest shit, I vision it before I even pen them sentences

I close my eyes and the pen move (Yeah)

I see you niggas and your thin jewels

Don't make me show up to your show with like 10 goons

Light up the sour and inhale it twice

A little savage, hit a nigga in his melon twice

Shot up the scene on his pedal bike

His trap hangin' 'round his neck,

Using the strings from his yellow Nikes

Niggas went from sellin' weight to mailing kites

I'm puttin' on so when they home,

I can set 'em right (Free the homies)

Who you playing with, homie? We ain't the same, you a lame

Get the fuck up outta my lane (Pussy), you know the name

You say you got guns, it ain't a thang

I will aim, I keep Macs around me like Wayne, mothafucka

You get your bread from the shop and still be talking fucking E. Coli

I ain't playin', yo

Yo, you wanna get fucked up, yo?

Drive down to Arizona, get what I need

First off, work out outside, come back inside

Get you a little fever

Then take you down to Arizona

And hit my man Rico,

He pullin' up on you with at least four to seven E. Coli's

Take those-

And then-

Go to the fucking weekend