Mack Lean - Kool G Rap, Fred The Godson, AG Da Coroner

Born of a hustler, I’m a bad motherfucker

Keep a pocket full of c-notes, some kilos stuffed in his muffler

Pimp daddy mack lean, tilt the suede hat mean

Cadillac and pad clean, that nickel-plated mac gleam

Flare bellbottoms, shells, he shot 'em

The hell if he not, he a problem like a cell up in Harlem

Should’ve been in an asylum the way he funeral parlour ‘em

Bottom bitch with the healthy bottom

My bell’s no cotton

Come from a slum off a strip made of legends

See her face with fresh enough mirror paint on that fresh Benz

King of my city, I run for mayor election here on

He step in the scene you to the fifth wing, what happened?

The don is session brunette and blond sex and I’m on rest

And my weapon I hit ‘em with arm injections

Firearm your direction, no arm wrestling peasants

Palming that bread, he got off on the own connections

No question

Pimp daddy with the mack lean

Luxurious suites, 80-inch flat screens

We made money, stick-ups and crack fiends

New York City, certified rap king

Nina 12 gauge

Imagine if I seen ya, twelfth grade

Schoolboy’s how I handle you

Your mack book was a computer, mine’s was a manual

I dared a bitch buy a whole book of Emmanuel

I cook with the mechanicals, you shook?

That’s understandable

I took a gram or two and made a grand or two

Sold to your mother and your grandma too

Oh they a lover of my grandma too, but who better than Kool G Rap?

I’m in the booth with a Biggie sweater, this coogie rap

Uzi clap, you’ve been warned

Put the snug to it uniform, don’t make me clank the nose like a unicorn (get it?

You’ve been on for a couple, don’t diss the forefathers

Your mom don’t know who your pops, you probably got four fathers

I’m from a different era

Violate if you should ever, Fred the Godson

Pimp daddy with the mack lean

Luxurious suites, 80-inch flat screens

We made money, stick-ups and crack fiends

New York City, certified rap king

Mannequin nails, headline with Steve Harvey

History was Teflon, try to stick to degree bodies

No no no bloodline, pristine Gotti

Ill with the Rambo knife plus he busting the mean shotty

Weave spinning had emptying in his family

Intelligent hoodlum still familiar with tragedy

One problem away from losing his sanity

Telling whose situation get nasty, that’s word to vanity

Nightmares and dark fantasies, they toetagging me (try to kill me)

Playa had a death wish, she kept the best bitch

What’s snapping with fingers, he make her step quick

Respect me, homie, don’t play the phony

Them hot shells will turn you to macaroni

Shout out to Treach and Naughty, I do my dirt by my lonely

Ninja nigga shinobi

Creeping through the block then walk away like I’m Kobe

And play the mirror like Moany

Pimp daddy with the mack lean

Luxurious suites, 80-inch flat screens

We made money, stick-ups and crack fiends

New York City, certified rap king