Sangtekst: Mac. Nobody Make a Sound.

Alright, we got Mac, Magic, Fiend
And fa sho we got 2-4-1 up in this bitch
You know what I'm sayin'?
And if any of you motherfuckers move
Y'all gon get your fuckin' heads blown off
Ya heard me?

Alright, nobody move, nobody die
If you thinkin' about breathin'
Then I'ma open fire tonight
Everybody's gonna die tonight

Mr. Magic, you pat 'em down, 2-4-1 y'all duct tape 'em
And if anybody move Fiend gon disenegrate 'em
Startin' with you and you 'cuz I told y'all not to breathe
Now I want the rest of y'all to watch them motherfuckers bleed

Throw down your rollies
Your Gucci's, your 'Sace's
And your new Jays and your cellphones
And anything else that cost over a hundred bones

Alright, I'ma pat everybody down, so keep your heads to the floor
Whoever in charge of this bitch better point me to the door
I'm lookin' for the loot, so me and my people can leave
But any dis-cooperation and one of you bitches gon bleed

I'm 'bout that drama, ask my mama, she ain't raise no punk
I'm 'bout that murder, you motherfuckers better smell my trunk
They call me Magic 'cuz I'm known for makin' my victims disappear
Fear? Naw nigga that shit ain't happen 'round here

Now everybody lay it down, nobody make a sound
I got fifty fuckin' rounds
Now everybody lay it down, nobody make a sound
I got fifty fuckin' rounds

Lights beamin', we screamin', we gonna get cha
2-4-1 we're dumpin' in the clip with the triggers
We gotta be bad, you better get ready
We're gonna do your ass like Jason or either like Freddy

The time has come, the clock has ticked
Man hold up, this is your last trick
Off the hook, it's the way, let us reign
Niggas better know this ain't no motherfuckin' game

Now what I got to get it done?
The M-1, I borrowed from Big Ed
My chopper got a spittin' tongue
And when it hums, it speaks ya to death

I ain't got no problem with you, well maybe I do
You got what I want
And either till you give it up, I'ma split ya up
And don't think that I won't

Don't got much time to tell about the murder tale
To each one of y'all
But that last motherfucker that ain't really wanna give it up
Just be here with y'all

What cha mean that nigga
Fiend ain't got the gall?
My nigga Mac gave the call
Murder, murder, kill, kill, burn up all y'all

Now everybody lay it down, nobody make a sound
I got fifty fuckin' rounds
Now everybody lay it down, nobody make a sound
I got fifty fuckin' rounds

Now everybody lay it down, nobody make a sound
I got fifty fuckin' rounds
I told you bitches lay it down, everybody made a sound
So we shuttin' this bitch down, ya heard me?