[Verse]
Rappers ain't shit in the '90s, I don't trust 'em
And bitches on my dick, but they ain't shit so motherfuck 'em
I'm in my six four
Got it jumping like it's nothin'
Somebody tried to jump me, tried to play me for a sucka
A pistol to my head, got a pistol in the glove
I ripped that bitch out, and let that mothafucka bust
Got a kevlar vest, right under the shirt
Creeping with that heater
Don't you get that ass MURKED
Bringing the wikkity sounds, it's that West Coast thugster
Lyrically serving crack to these South Side hustlers
The North Side murderers
The East Side slangers
The West Coast bangers
And these mothafuckin' RVIDXRS
Bringing it all the way back
It's the return of the Mack
Mac-10 clips ready to bang on attack
Alizé sipping, rolling blunts in the 'Lac
Sitting sideways, bustas don't know how to act
But bitch you already know, that I got that G-Funk
Try and press your luck and meet that purp up in the trunk
Never hesitate to lay a busta on his back
So if you talking trash meet that fucking compact