[Intro: Unkle D Money]
(Damjonboi)
Mack-town
Turn-around
Yeah
What up, Jonboi?

[Verse 1: Unkle D Money]
Another n***a dead, but we ain't mad, though
My n***a Bando dropped a new strand, he an asshole
And ain't no sittin' down and talkin', he ain't Lando
New opp pack in the air, that's what they mad for
Naw, 'cause they mans on a tee, that's what they sad for
I been trappin' all my life, bitch, I grew up in a bando
Lil D meet me on the block, ain't leavin' stock until the bag gone
(N***as be spooked, you ain't whoop, why the fuck you got a rag on?)
Most of these hoes play it dirty, so that's why I keep the Mag' on
Why would I touch a basic bitch when I be fuckin' on the models?
I heard it's lonely at the top, but wasn't nobody at the bottom
Shift workin' in that spot, tryna come up on a thousand
Turned around, now I'm a boss, baby, I knew that from a toddler
Bro say he done trappin', but he still fuck around with couches
Callin' for a zip, the 'bows in, I don't fuck around with ounces
(Your mans a rat, you look goofy, you still fuck around with mouses)
Old-ass n***a, grown rats, y'all some big mice
N***as jokes, laughin' at life, you can't get right
I'm from the Mack, but I been rollin' on the 7 like trick dice
(If the pussy good and the ass fat, I might trick twice)
You cap, you ain't tryna sell that strap, then what you show me for?
N***a, you ain't sippin' Act', that ain't close enough
Tell that bitch watch them bumps while I'm pourin' up
Fun fact, I don't like hoes in the back that ain't rollin' up
Was into scams before corona, n***a, ain't shit slowin' up
Couple hundred for the jeans and Turtle zips just to hold 'em up
Remember I was that dirty lil' n***a, guess I'm glowin' up
Tell auntie I'm still shoppin', come load me up
I took a trip for it, I can't do no deals, is you broke or what?
[Verse 2: Rio Da Yung OG]
Fifty-five hundred for a 'bow, I'm finna smoke it up
This a free pound, bring a box of 'Woods and you could roll it up
Them bullets that I got hit your top, I'ma blow it up
Just got a Wock' pint, bitch damn near gone before I open it up
I wouldn't sell a line if you had nine hundred, I'ma pour it up
You a spot worker, you can't touch the bag, go get the door or somethin'
Fucked three hoes raw in one night, am I a ho or what?
810 baby, I'm from Flint, but the East love me
Rose gold ten milli' in the club, n***a, keep muggin'
Found a thousand M30s for the low, I hit Skeeze up
Made her go through pain and suck my meat up, fucked her knees up
Just sold Barry three pounds of Snickle Fritz and sold DZ one
Half a million dollars in three months, opps can't keep up
N***as tryna rap, give me seven racks and pull a beat up
So much Wock', this shit poison, it taste like we pourin' bleach up

[Verse 3: RMC Mike]
Sixty rounds in that PLR, fuck the streets up
Cleared three hundred cash in like nine months, n***a, we up
I want Wockeisha, fuck that Patricia, I hate cheap stuff
You drinkin' fake lean, I put it in a box, his cup freeze up
If you want a feature but your shit weak, I need double
If my brother Skeeze pull up with FN, you in trouble
Bitch tried to fall in love, I hit her with the Cupid Shuffle
Get my chips up, bitch, I'm stackin' Lays, you a Ruffle
I been chewin' rappers for some time, I'm gettin' full now
Bring 200K to Stockdale Street and brung the hood out
Damn, this bitch might be pregnant, I ain't pull out
You want a job? Bitch, I'm payin' a rack a day for a lookout