(x4) Matic, Matic, Matic, Matic M-M-M-M Go get my gloves Niggas play gangster like Pesky does I get wild on him if he does Two Macs, that's 50 slugs Look what you've gone and done I empty the whole clip, I don't bun and run The trey-pound, run and spun The pumpy that's Gunna's gun It's the return of the South again Pick it up, reload, and I'm out for them Running up your mouth got me out again On the ride with a stick, Ralph Lauren What you know 'bout that banging sound Got it locked from Sumner to Spanish Town And niggas tryna pan it down My big AK'll bring a planet down It's that up middle finger shit Got a whole lotta power at my fingertip So don't tempt me and let my finger slip And you can't see who through the window tint Shit's hot, and I've been low since Get it in though, and I get the bimbos in Got a full house, nothing like a bingo win So don't talk about matics 'cause we ring those things (x8) Matic, Matic, Matic, Matic M-M-M-M Straight greazy tip, yeah my clique's certainly 'bout it When I grip it up, slugs start bursting out it When I do the ting you would not have heard about it 'Cause I tell my niggas "don't say a word about it" 'Cause the street's speaking, in police meetings But snitches get pitching, see I keep seizing You'll be deep sleeping, when the 'retta buss See the prey, creep on niggas like a predator And if I see your clique then it's beef I'll grip up and strangle the clip out the beak like If you slip with your chick in the street I'll let a young G grip the bitch by her weave If I tore gats, I'll knock the dust outta your cap You'll be on the floor with your jaw cracked If I ain't got my strap get your jaw smacked And I'll let my knife plant in on your back The truth is, I was dead broke So low, couldn't buy a chicken leg and a coke But now I get dough from the Z's and the O's Act up and I'll shove the spesh down your throat Think you're greaze 'cause you're running 'round in a bunch? I'm a G, I'll ride on your block on my ones Pissed, bare my G's got locked by them cunts Free all my niggas locked down in the slum (x8) Matic, Matic, Matic, Matic M-M-M-M You ain't buying guns little prick, you're a liar I've got firearms like my arms are on fire If I've got the fire on me, I stop, drop and roll I mean I stop, drop him with the shot and blow I grab the strap on some greazy shit I'll squeeze and hit the prick when I'm squeezing it And I stay close to where my heater is Niggas know We're still the greaziest The reason is we don't reason with Little p*ssyholes, I put it close and squeeze the fifth So f*ck the law, if I touch the 4 You can die before you touch the floor Got a new strap, better have your vest about I might bun you in just to test it out So rest your mouth boy, or rest in peace I'll have you laid out if I press release (x8) Matic, Matic, Matic, Matic M-M-M-M