Şarkıcı Adı: Mac Dre
Şarkı Adı: Always Inta Somethin’

[VERSE 1: Mac Dre]
Back in December, or was it November?
It’s kind of shady, I can vaguely remember
I was at the Peppermill, popping at the bartender
He made me a drink called uh, Bodybender
That’s when a smurf pulled on my shirt
Said (Hey, get off my girl, dog, before you get hurt)
I said, “Hold on, I don’t know what you think
You better back the fuck up and let me order my drink”
He backed the fuck up and did more than you think
He had a AP, not a nine, but it’s sort of the same
So now it’s one lonely R-o-m-p
I’m all by myself without nobody
Slightly noided, sense death, can I avoid it?
Somebody slammed the do’ on the way comin from the toilet
He looked back, then I pulled out my strap
Slapped him it twice but uh, I should’ve clapped
Cause this other goon nigga started wildin
I pulled out my faulty phone and started dialin
Told my niggas to come on the double
They finna put a nigga on the gong show, bust his bubble
He said yeah, he know he comin
“But damn my nigga, you always into somethin”

[VERSE 2: J. Diggs]
Recently, June 4th, released from jail
And ’bout to hit the streets like a beast from hell
It’s that nigga y’all done heard about, young J. Diggs
Love to play the game and I play big
I see suckers havin money and I gots to have some
You in the double R, I gots to have one
I’m all up in his backdo’ like knock-knock-knock
The nigga moved too fast, so I pop-pop-popped
Should’ve stood still, there would be no firing
But it’s a little late, all I’m hearin is sirens
So now I’m in the wind like leaves on trees
I’m in the crowd tryin to blend like d’s on v’s
I’m sweatin bullets, I’m an ex-con out on parole
What the fuck was I thinkin, I’m out of control
I’m at the Romp House and I’m huffin and puffin
My niggas lookin at me crazy cause I’m always into somethin

[VERSE 3: Sleep Dank]
Yo, we fuck with heavy guns, fuck around and pump heavy slugs
We drinkin Rémy doin heavy drugs
Nigga, we stay explosive, it’s about a quarter to six
Step out the limousine, my wallet’s ’bout a quarter inch thick
Nigga, we shittin on em, I pop the three-piece, savage
So many carats up in my ice I could choke a rabbit
Bitches screamin for me but all it took was one dirty look
We hit that nigga with that murder book
Nigga tried to step fast, hit him in the face with a Moët glass
Spilled drink on his bitch, the whole club hit the do’ fast
Trunks is poppin, niggas wingin in the parking lot
We keep it gangsta with them choppers out
S-l double, I smell trouble, boy, it’s nothin
Keep your peace, muthafucka, I’m always into somethin

[VERSE 4: Da’ Unda’ Dogg]
Let me tell you somethin ’bout a nigga like me
Never should’ve been let out the penitentiary
Cause niggas done switched up, I guess they got it mixed up
Now I’m a dust the heater off my shelf and leave em bitched up
Like this one nigga actin like a dumb nigga
S-in on his chest with no vest, yeah, he a dumb nigga
Ain’t no love in this thug shit
Now he at the club tryin to hug on my thug bitch
Plus she done gave me the run-down on how this nigga run round
Town speakin on my name, tonight he get gunned down
His bitch about to set him out, open the door and let him out
Caught his ass scared and out, Bronc style, dead him out
Never have beef with a nigga who bitch you wanna sleep with
Cowards get devoured on that sweet shit
Hit him with the venom, then bounce with my adrenaline pumpin
Yo nigga always up into somethin

Şarkıcı Adı: Mac Dre
Şarkı Adı: Doin What I Do

Yea, yes, yea, yes, mmhmm
Mac Dreezy, Mac Dreezy (who)
I’m back baby
Oh boy where ya been
I’m back
Boy where ya been
Check it

[Mac Dre]
I’m out the roof of a old school
Trynna campaign
Smokin’ champagne
Doin’ the damn thang
Now this a damn shame
How these smurf’s hate
But these Gilligan’s been trippin’ since my first tape
Well here’s another knock
Dope as a hover rock
For you to bump while you sidin’ through the parkin’ lot
After the club
Put it on a dub
Hollerin’ at hutches that’s trynna get dug
Out, drout on niggaz like me
M to the D from the R-O-M-P bo billy
Usin’ gangsta scare tactics
Tennis shoe pimpin’ in my Nike Air Max’s
Back on the street after 5 in the slammer
I’m lookin’ saucy somebody get a camera
Oh, you mad
I ain’t mad at you
I thought you knew
I’m just doin’ what I do

[Chorus x2]
I’m doin’ what I do (This is what I do)
Bitch don’t get mad if I’m not fuckin’ wit you (I ain’t fuckin’ wit you)
Or fuckin’ wit you (Damn sure I ain’t fuckin’ wit you)

[Mac Dre]
She heard the 15’s knock when I hit the block
Then I hopped out butter and she had to jock
I’m a ho magnet
Heat I’m gon’ pack it
Doe I’m gon’ stack it
Lick I’m gon’ jack it
On the scene
Always smokin’ green
In the pen I had CO’s bringin’ me the damn thing
It’s yo niggidy (It’s yo niggidy)
Mac Drigidy (Mac Drigidy)
Back in the V look at me I’m livin’ free
No parole
I can choke a ho
Get mail, post bail, and they gon’ let me go
I’m here to let you know
This as real as it gets
I’m makin’ hunks and chunks
Don’t fuck wit kibbles and bits
Big face, hundred dollar bills
Got me, straight face
Gunnin’ for the skrill
I’m runnin’ wit the P.O
Goin’ for 2
Wit the double R crew
Doin’ what I do

[Chorus x2]

[Mac Dre]
Mac D-R-Ebonics
Dope as chronic
Put it to a beat and make it stank like vomit
Boy I’m a foo-el (foo-el)
Human jew-el (jew-el)
At the studie turnin’ blunt into do-bells
Wit D-Con cuz he keep the bomb
And the Crest Side be the turf where we from (Crest Sida)
I’m a hustla
Straight chip getta
And she gotta pay for Dre to get wit her
No doe ho
Leave me alone
I’m in the drop wit the Cali sun heat in my dome
Feelin’ like a movie star when I slide
They know who the hell we are when we ride
It’s Country Club Crest Side crew
Actin’ some fools
Potna doin’ what the fuck we do
Gorilla gurpinStay out the way boy
And bow down when you see Mac Dre boy

Şarkıcı Adı: Mac Dre
Şarkı Adı: Grown Shit

[Intro]
Yep, Yea, Yep, Yea, Yep
Dont stop won’t stop won’t quit
Never could never would
Mac Dre back wit some more shit
You know (yadida mean, yadida mean)
Come on man

[verse 1]
I’m a rap matic track addict
And I’m back at it
Play me a beat with this heat I’m a blap at it
The cat scated, when the mac spatted
You don’t want to see me, punk get your hat flatted
Dope like a crack addict, or a hop head
Spit it clear so you can hear, what I said
Pot head, hot head nigga that got dreads
Got bread stop red get hit with the hot lead
My bed, you might see three things
High heels, my pills, and hoes in G strings
I see things, through my pimpin glasses
Cheesy macaroni, teaching pimpin classes
I dips and mashes, Mercedes Benzes
Might wear stunnas without the lenses
I’m off the hinges I handle business
Leave no clues, witness, or forensics
No co-dependence all by my lonesome
Wont see Solano, Quintin, or Folsom
I ghost em, at the four way stop sign
Forty HK don’t fuck with Glock nine
I rock wind, I’m a star I’m famous
Got my own language cool when I swang it
Oh, I’m all out the door
351 with the shift in the floor

[chorus x2]
Come on you beezy lets do some grown shit
Put on a tight thong too small that don’t fit
When I’m on the thizz I’m a fool I don’t quit
Unborn kids, nut I own shit

[verse 2]
Dre rock rhymes from here to New York
Only smoke rope no coke or New Ports
Hubotchi Benihana pork on my fork
Rapping is a sport and this is my court
Do anything to win my referees cheat
I flagrant foul and bruise to beat
Read em and weap
I’m a royal flush
Give me some shrums
So I can get mushed
Kick dust, always in something tight
Hella loud with the whistle or the suction pipe
Fucking dikes, in Vegas or Reno ask Kilo, nigga he know
I’m well connected I know big wells
Did shows in harryels been in hella jails and federals
But nigga it never fails
The shit don’t stop when I drop hella sales
Hella mail, call me the postman
From Vallejo born in Oakland
Yolking, Dodge Diplomats
Fuck three strikes get the bitch to bat

[chorus x2 to end]

Şarkıcı Adı: Mac Dre
Şarkı Adı: 2 Hard 4 The Fuckin’ Radio

Listen up, I’m about to get dope
It ain’t nothin’ but some shit I wrote
About a young brotha deep in the game
They call me Mac Dre and I’m keepin the name
I sport Nikey shoes, I got a mic to use
To talk bad about suckers, I don’t like the fools
Down and dirty bout spittin’ my hits
And if not, I’m gettin’ my grits
Playin’ the game like it’s supposed to be played
Makin’ much more than the minimum wage
Not a pimp daddy, don’t drive a Caddy
I just mack and get all that babby
Dre, you know I never slow down
Smokin cesstee until I’m really towed down
Walk into the party, fully perked
Grab the microphone and let the mouthpiece work
I got hype and the game starts flowinThe girls get freaky and it starts showinAnd when the party’s over at the end of the night
They say: Damn, Mac Dre you ain’t nothin’ polite
Cause I’m the numero uno, could never be the dos
A Mack named Dre and I’m poppin the most
18, makin’ raps ’til I’m 80 though
And too hard for the fuckin’ radio

“Tell me somethin’ good”
I’m too hard for the fuckin’ radio

My rhymes are dope cause Mac Dre made ’em
And made you geek every time you play them
On your tape deck, hooked to your Sacco
A little hard, but brotha I’m a mack, though
Nothin’ nice, makin’ raps that you wanna hear
Gettin cessted, put my hands on the beer
I can’t help it, that’s what I like to do
Sloppy drunk, rappin’ on the mic for you
A young brotha, kinda bone-skinny
I take a girl to the golden penny
Get romantic, just like I planned it
Then cut turf and leave the girl stranded
Is it hard becuz I just beat it?
Not really, that’s what the girl needed
That’s game, I thought that you knew this
Mack game, and mine is the smoothest
Like lotion I’m in motion
I’m a mack, I was a big ocean
But no matter what the fuck your name is
Nothin’ nice is what my game is
18, makin’ raps ’til I’m 80 though
And too hard for the fuckin’ radio

“Tell me somethin’ new”
I’m too hard for the fuckin’ radio

Come to the Northside of the V
The C the r the e the s-t
Hit Lennard, what will be seen?
20 young niggaz gettin full of the Hen
This is the Romper Room, and you know who I am
The mack named Dre, so get with the program
Nothin’ proper, freaks will clock ya
And if there’s funk, then punk we’ll mop ya
So beware of the four-door Delta
Get your crew if you think they can help ya
And step up but not too close
Cause the Crestside is poppin the most
And all you girls, don’t you feel left out
And to the boys, I’ve worn that flesh out
And after that we can still be friends though
And if not, we’ll be friends with the Indo
Romper Room kickin on Lennard Street
Mac Dre full of the Hennessy
18, makin’ raps ’til I’m 80 though
And too hard for the fuckin’ radio