| What nigga drop that shit |
| Soldier say K L |
| These fake ass rap niggaz thought I lost it yet |
| I’m bout to let these old bitch ass niggaz know I got a game in my vein |
| Verse 1: Mac |
| Murda murda I wrote it in braile |
| Uncut lyrical dope certified by my scale |
| The homicide rapper there’ll never be another after |
| The Mac’s rapture I represent that’s what I’m on the map for |
| Who the fuck gonna fuck with the scandalous |
| 1 8−7 on these mothafuckin amateurs of rap |
| Feel the wrath of a nigga who bust |
| Makin my clique the shit, bitches wanna discuss |
| ?Platonic?, the lyrical killins don’t got no motives |
| In this, in my vein, ain’t no way I can control it |
| When this inside of me is as deadly as them niggas |
| You know the ones who killed them boys and dumped the body in the river |
| I enter the place, ski mask covered my face |
| If they pass me the mic, I’m gonna catch a case |
| In this mothafucka ya heard of me |
| ?T-T and herb hit the spot? |
| All the niggas I know is Shell Shocked |
| Chorus: Mac |
| I got the game in my vein |
| Won’t change |
| I got the game in my vein |
| Won’t change |
| I got the game in my vein |
| Won’t change |
| I got it, I got it |
| Verse 2: Mac |
| I was born in it and represented |
| The sinister words of murder was the sons of bitches who was wit it |
| Never die, my motto, fatigue my sheet |
| Big Wise that’s my nigga, Psycho Ward is my clique |
| Affiliated with cash, got my foot on the gas |
| Tailgatin real fast, through my sun roof my verbal gun shoot |
| Them scriptures, paint the pictures |
| We believe was cops tryin to catch me like receivers |
| Scream my name, to all these bitches who be hard to tame |
| Momma said it’s a shame, poppa gave me the game |
| Experience a soldier, my heart pumps battle fluid |
| You wanna go to war let’s get to it |
| Mac-a-don, put you on teflon style of murder |
| Deadly as the killer kyle in your hamburger |
| Till they bury me black, wrapped up in street camo |
| I rock the microphone strapped off with street ammo |
| Chorus: Mac |
| I got the game in my vein |
| Won’t change |
| I got the game in my vein |
| Won’t change |
| I got the game in my vein |
| Won’t change |
| I got the game in my vein |
| Won’t change |
| Verse 3: Mac |
| I’m the bad nigga from the bricks |
| Blood on my kicks |
| Camoflauged niggas never die, we drop hits |
| I spit the gospel, to all of my mothafuckin apostles |
| Mac as potent as the coke snortin in your nostrils |
| I minister, words of a mothafuckin sinister |
| Transform into Liu Kang and finish ya |
| Nigga put me in the game I’ma show you my sports |
| Witness the street level on the b-ball court |
| Bitch I’ma die wit it, cause it’s a part of my vein |
| Hear that word camoflauge when you hear my name |
| So tell them niggas I’m back affiliated, enemy lines are penetrated |
| My niggas wit me |
| You cook me up, put me in the pipe, hit me |
| Spread me in every ghetto, every city, I get busy |
| And buck, my name Mac remember that, I drop rhymes |
| Nigga it’s Mac as if you missed it the first time nigga |
| Woah 7x |