[CHORUS]

It's paper over pussy, chips over a bitch

Dough over a hoe, but suckers, they think with they dick

It's dollars over nana, c-notes over a slut

G's over breezies, yeah nigga, what's up?



[VERSE 1: Mac Mall]

Some more of it, how you want it, patented and proven potent

Pockets bulgin, diamonds glowin, ain't no secret, we on one

Lights, camera, action, muthafucka, it's mackin

Release the Jacksons, let em go, they ain't go buy the captains

And I'm a general that's spittin flows and peelin hoes

Smokin dope, drinkin XO, but don't fuck with no chemicals

Your wifey wanna try me, hook up and give me body

But it's paper over pussy, break bread or get from by me

Little mama, you fly, but I'm sharper than all

Save that drama for partner, spendin up at the bar

See, he like trickin chips, I just wanna put dick between your lips

Hey, get another rock just for kicks, bust two nuts and then I switch

Hey player, she with your, but if you know like I do

You get further with baby, she lookin like she wanna choose

And I'm one of those niggas that go hard on these bitches

Make em pay for the game and always charge em interest



[CHORUS]



[VERSE 2: Mac Mall]

You're owin me for knowin me and I'ma put ya down like you're 'posed to be

Girl, give MC nose to me, let him pay rent and buy groceries

Let that man play step daddy and take care of them kids

If he knew how you was swallowin nuts, that fool'd have a fit

See, I'm a savage, I get mannish when I'm doggin yo bitch

You're sittin home on your punk ass, you sittin, be pussy-whipped

Gotta be smokin that shit if you think she ain't gettin hit

By Mister Iatola Komani from that Sesed Out click

When you found out you was heart-broke, couldn't believe she was cut-throat

But I ain't tryin to get comfortable, I'm just tryin to get my loot on

These niggas off the hinges, lose they mind over these chickens

Showin out for these tramps, and I forgot to mention

She's goin both ways now, chassy, quick to lay it down

Lip gloss and no drawers at the club wildin out

Little turf dirt-ass bitch

Lip gloss and no drawers, at the club wildin out



[CHORUS]



[VERSE 3: Mac Mall]

Now I betcha I won't sweat her and I be damned if I jocked

The broad top notch, a dime piece, to me they punk rock

I give her a job and had the little chick on the clock

Bringin me ??? while busters steady sprung on the twat

You see, I rather count them big heads till my fingers ache

Than have a fake fine bitch in my face, all in the way

And Mister Mackin don't have breaks in my paper chase

I have a breezy sellin her crate and transportin weight

Cashin faulty checks in the bank

She everything that daddy want she get and what she get I take

I'm boss-gamin, boy, you're just small change

And you'll forever be a sucker, for a guy, for a dame

Look at them lames



[CHORUS]



Yeah nigga, what's up

Yeah nigga, what's up

Yeah nigga, what's up [x3]



You know

See man, these niggas claimin player

But the whole time

Man, they bonafide tricks

Yeah, Femi on the beat

Boss Game on the m-i-c

It ain't nothin new, you know how we do



[CHORUS]



Mac Mall

Sesed Out

535 proof

Yeah nigga, what..