Lil Yachty – I’m the Mac Lyrics

[Intro]
DN, DN, DN
Dropped out of school, that shit was for the pussies
Rockin’ ice, that shit, that got me pussy
Ooh, niggas tryna overlook me
Say what you want, just don’t push me (Uh)

[Chorus]
I’m the mack, I’m the mack
Minor setbacks for major comebacks, yeah (Ooh)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack, ooh (Yeah)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack, ooh (Yeah)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack
Keep a sack, fifty racks, a’ight (Ooh)
Baby, have a talk with your son
That nigga lookin’ like a sack, huh (Bitch)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack, huh (Mack)
I’m the mack with the MAC, huh (I’m the mack)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack (Mack)
Minor setbacks for major comebacks, ooh (A’ight)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack (Skeet)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack (Skeet)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack (Ooh)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

[Verse]
Lips, I wanna fuck on them lips (Uh)
Baby got natural hips, yeah (Ooh)
Beat from the back while she drip (Drip, drip, drip)
Hey, these niggas pussy like Tom
These niggas wastin’ my time (My time)
The brokest nigga love to chime
In, out, been ’bout
Ben Franks, ask the bank
I may hit lick like a Jumpman
Doin’ donuts like a stuntman (Skeet, skeet, skeet)
Somebody slide me some oil, no tin man
Can’t ride in your whip, ain’t no tint, man
Bitch (Uh)

[Chorus]
I’m the mack, I’m the mack
Minor setbacks for major comebacks, yeah (Ooh)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack, ooh (Yeah)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack, ooh (Yeah)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack
Keep a sack, fifty racks, a’ight (Ooh)
Baby, have a talk with your son
That nigga lookin’ like a sack, huh (Bitch)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack, huh (Mack)
I’m the mack with the MAC, huh (I’m the mack)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack (Mack)
Minor setbacks for major comebacks, ooh (A’ight)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack (Skeet)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack (Skeet)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack (Ooh)
I’m the mack, I’m the mack (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Rick Ross – Dead Presidents (Geechi Liberachi Album)

Rather you than me
If you’ve been fucking with me from Port of Miami
It’s been hell of a fucking journey
Ain’t nun’ changed nigga
Lil’ stronger, lil’ wiser, maybe a lil’ more violent
Blame it on America
Fuck it

I’m pulling off the lot, I bought it cash
Her future bright, don’t give a fuck about her past
Her ass be looking good inside the leggings
But I notice that she missing all her edges
I run the game just by running with the felons
Poor attitude, and got rich nigga calisthenics
Walking in the courtroom, sipping on a beverage
I know the judge, so I got a lot of leverage
Pissing on these bitches is a fetish (R. Kelly)
Fully loaded .60s smoking on a seven (all ready)
Your dawg get a dime, you never wrote a letter
Still in a box, got her rapping acapella
Can’t trust no people fucking with the Reverend
I got a chopper, boy don’t make me be the devil
He knocking on the door and know the password
Gave me his blessings, boy I’m hotter than the last verse

Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead, them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty til’ proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent

I got thirty white bitches like Tommy Lee
I make drug money, nigga, I make blood money
On my third passport, and I’m geechie as fuck
I got wet stripper pussy at the airport
I got Bowlingreen dollars on my chopper
Bussing down a hundred bales in the bath tub
Fuck this Philippine pussy in some house shoes
I got dope money, nigga, I got war wounds
Get to the clutching on the hammer, ain’t no dance moves
I was posted on the stoop, hanging with my Haitians
The murder’s on the news, all front pages
Young niggas catching bodies, ain’t no relations
I was stacking Ben Franks in Labasa, Fiji
They rob you two times in a row, that’s a repeat
And I’m fucking niggas hoes cause they easy
I’m in here fucking niggas wives, balls breezy
She gotta fuck me like she love me, like she need me
I got my Maybach flooded out with extra TVs
I make a movie every single fucking day
I John Travolta when I flood that Patek face

Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty til’ proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent

Let’s go!
Hands on these niggas, got the yellow bracelet
Check off in my pocket like the yellow pages
Fuck you niggas was, when I was ashy nigga
Loafers and the chop, I keep it classy nigga
Build a empire, yeah that’s what my state of mind
Motherfuck ’em all, yeah that’s what my state of mind
Keep the blocks over there, we call it Lego land
Meanwhile the kids smoking like it’s Amsterdam
Dope boy Prez, you know who got the troops
Sixteen when I bought my first Rollie
Legend in my hood just like I’m Escobar
Never ride dirties in the extra car

Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty til’ proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty till proven innocent

Rick Ross – Dead Presidents (feat. Future, Jeezy & Yo Gotti) (Rather You Than Me Album)

[Intro: Rick Ross]
Rather You Than Me
If you’ve been fucking with me from Port of Miami
It’s been hell of a fucking journey
(M-M-Maybach Music) Ain’t nun’ changed, nigga
Lil’ stronger, lil’ wiser
Maybe a lil’ more violent
Blame it on America, fuck it
(Beat Billionaire)

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I’m pullin’ off the lot, I bought it cash (woah)
Her future bright, don’t give a fuck about her past (woah)
Her ass be lookin’ good inside the leggings (woah)
But I notice that she missin’ all her edges (woah)
I run the game just by runnin’ with the felons (woah)
Poor attitude, and got rich nigga calisthenics (woah)
Walkin’ in the courtroom, sippin’ on a beverage (woo)
I know the judge, so I got a lot of leverage (woo)
Pissin’ on these bitches is a fetish (R. Kelly)
Fully loaded .60s smokin’ on a seven (all ready)
Your dawg get a dime, you never wrote a letter (woah)
Still in a box, got him rappin’ acapella (woah)
Can’t trust no people fuckin’ with the reverend (woah)
I got a chopper, boy, don’t make me be the devil (woah)
He knockin’ on the door and know the password (woo)
Gave me his blessings, boy, I’m hotter than the last verse (woo)

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti]
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Let’s go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent

[Verse 2: Future]
I got thirty white bitches like Tommy Lee
I make drug money, nigga, I make blood money
On my third passport, and I’m geechie as fuck
I got wet stripper pussy at the airport
I got Bowlingreen dollars on my chopper
Bussin’ down a hundred bales in the bathtub
Fuck this Philippine pussy in some house shoes
I got dope money, nigga, I got war wounds
Get to the clutchin’ on the hammer, ain’t no dance moves
I was posted on the, stoop, hangin’ with my Haitians
The murder’s on the, news, all front pages
Young niggas catchin’ bodies, ain’t no relations
I was stackin’ Ben Franks and bought some Fiji
They rob you two times in a row, that’s a repeat
And I’m fuckin’ niggas hoes ’cause they easy
I’m in here fuckin’ niggas wives, balls breezy
She gotta fuck me like she love me, like she need me
I got my Maybach flooded out with extra TVs
I make a movie every single fuckin’ day
I John Travolta when I flaunt that Patek face

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti]
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Let’s go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent

[Verse 3: Jeezy]
Let’s go!
Hands on these niggas, got the yellow bracelet
Check off in my pocket like the yellow pages
Fuck you niggas was when I was ashy, nigga?
Loafers in the chop, I keep it classy, nigga
Build a empire, yeah, that’s what my state of mind
Motherfuck ’em all, yeah, that’s what my state of mind
Keep the blocks over there, we call it Legoland
Meanwhile, the kids smokin’ like it’s Amsterdam
Dope boy prez, you know who got the troops
Sixteen when I bought my first Rollie
Legend in my hood just like I’m Escobar
Never ride dirties in the extra car

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti]
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Let’s go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent