Intro: [Mac Mall]



Yeah though, it's the M-A-C y'all

Young M-A-C Mall yaknow what I'm sayin'?

From the Five-Tre-Five crew

Str8 Crestsider, (fa sure)

but I'm in the house wid my niggaaa,

Big Syke from Thug Lige bitch,

Ya know what I'm sayin'?

And it's going down like this...



Verse 1: Mac Mall



Wasted talent, wasted time, wasted minds

Suckas givin' up wid out trying

Satisfied wid ya grind

Farakhan lacin' soldiers everyday but you blind,

Ya best to beware, of this shit called minimum maximum

Cause all the hustlas is catching 'em,

From Crestside to L.A.

Cutty niggas can't dodge no case

Should dodge the bullet, when it's your face,

And I really don't know wid the mell on the glow

But I fits to get it all before the two triple O

Like Feddie and Big Row,

Hennessy so let's toast for my peo-ples

And all the playas and pard-ners that ain't here

For my factors and my folks wid a million years

Wid no chance to appeal,

I know ya thinkin' that it's to real

But playboy this the shit when ya lust for skreel

But if ya get it... huh ya won't look back

Be a certified star wid ya own dope track

No tapes and CDs, just zips and Os

And a faulty fan club known as the po-pos

You won't last long,

So for ya, grand finale

They ship ya ass off to the, fedaralies,

Ya know....



Hook: Big Syke



You got to use what you got,

And do ya best, no time to waste

Don't waste your talent life is full of stress



Verse 2:



A one track mind on the street still sellin' yay

Advance and dance to romance the game everyday

Some niggas do sixteen trife bringin' wifes back

My homie caught four ki