Mac Dre Boss Tycoon

[Mac Dre:]

Uh, what

Nigga what… let’s do it, (nigga what)

Nigga what… Like that

[Verse 1: Mac Dre]

I know, doe ray me

But no I’m not a R&B sanger

I’m a gangter rapper throwin’ up the middle fanger

To them square rubix cubes, who don’t smoke and use

I’m a cutthoat boy and I got a short fuse

I get kind of hyphy when I’m gone off a little Gin

You don’t like it, say hello to my little friend

Rat-ta-tat-tatta, it really don’t matter

I push a hard line cross it, niggaz gon’ scatter

I’m not the mad rapper, I’m the rapper gon’ bad

Recordin’ on Pro-Tools at the pad

I give the game a bath, boy I’m a sav

Come through the sideshow yokin’ the Cad

[Chorus: x2]

Fuck what it cost (what it cost)

I’m a boss (I’m a boss), Tycoon (ty-tycoon)

Dipped in sauce (in sauce), I floss (I floss)

I coon (I-I coon)

[Verse 2: Yukmouth]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

What you know about a, 600 V12

CL’s spinnin’ on them Spreewells, dirty as hell

Like fuck a detail, still knock yo female

Mack that bitch til’ she break her Lee nails

On the track in TL, Yukmouth

First week out 80 thousand on the street sales

Now I’m CEO that’s seven dollars on the retail, bitch

I got niggaz poppin’ they collars, poppin’ E pills

Poppin’ them bottles, to poppin’ them cowards with that heatelle

And fuck Spitz, I get my ice from Vionnis

My new york italianni, he plug me with Spanish mamis

Bitches belly dancin’ like a swami, but fuck em’

I’m too cocky, poppin’ that Don P., smokin’ my broccoli

Cause I’m a million dollar man like Ted Dediase

The FEDz see me, watch me, baby Liberace

The wrist stay rocky, the whips stay saucy, rims glossy

With mackin’ as Dre beside me

Call me frosty, frosty the snowman, the Oakland dopeman

Sell more kicks than Copeland’s, bitch

The Oakland mayor, the Oakland Raider

With the king of Vallejo, bitch, Foldin’ paper



[Verse 3: Mac Dre]

I ride around town in my clean ass Benz

Range Rov, coughnut on some clean ass rims

Hot like Ted Turner, I pack the lead burner

Spit it, to get it, can’t quit it I’m a bread earner (ch-ching)

Post up at the 5-star telly, Dre touch mo’ bread

Than a motherfuckin’ deli

Young rich nigga, 20 inch nigga, P-I-M-P

It’s all on a bitch nigga

I’ve been gettin’ scrill, diamonds in my grill

Rep the pill, and boy do I keep it trill

Showoff, that’ll go off on a blade

Kill like Raid and stay gon’ off made

Do what the fuck wanna, got bitches on the corner

Not just a thizz user, I’m a thizz owner

Sometimes I thizz, sometimes I shroom

But whatever I do, I’m a stay a Tycoon

Mac Dre Back 2 Da Basics

[Chorus: x4]

[Back 2 Da Basics Overlaps the Chorus]

Doing The Same Ol Thang

[Da Unda Dogg]

Back 2 Da Basics where I won’t sale yak

See I got get back mothafuck the jacks

Strapped me a gat just in case of the rap pack

I got another five to survive

My boss keep sweatin’ me workin’ me fo days

Shit can a nigga get a raise

Man I got a child to support and this ain’t workin’

Can’t pop yay cause the police is lerkin’

It’s gettin to point where I’m bout to say fuck it

Jackin’ muthafuckas in a bucket

Can’t I be back where I started straight cold hearted

My family would look at me retarded disregarded

Because I must get risk legit

A couple Benz and a kit and they can’t do shit

See they got theirs, and y’alls got y’alls

And now it’s time to get mine and plus I got balls

Boss fo a sec as nigga run a check on this microphone

To see if it’s on


I called a few friends

And see if they could front me some ends

They all talking about it depends

What you need it fo, now ain’t that strange

How money make a muthafucka change

And I bout had it with this job choppin down woods

While my homies choppin ki’s in the hood

Livin’ good, and I can’t stand one mo case

Because the judge would throw the fuckin book in my face

That’s why everybody is willin’ to die

To get a fat piece of the pie

I’m coming up dry, my pockets is chapped

I’m thinking about pimpin’ the hoods up with the gat

Silly of me how dumb could I be

It’s time to make a call to the homie MD

Can a nigga get plugged, I heard you got juice

And I got a few I’ll like to produce

Don’t sweat the style cause I got flow

That why I called yo ass to let you know


Now everythings fine no more grime

The feds can’t stick me with no more time

I told my boss that he could kiss my black ass

Cause being on this team, the longer it’s gone last

I made my rounds threw the jordans down

And off to the crest hittin’ zest by the pounds

No more settin’ trippin unless you want to trip

With my zest hit yo ass like a Vietnam vet

I bet I’ll go far if I could be a star

Eatting chitlings and ham and I could give a damn

Bout Uncle Sam because my army’s getting paid

Hittin’ with the lyrics they know they can’t fade

So I stop scheming up a mission to plot

Avoiding three huints and a cop

I got to give a shoot fo my homies in the pin

Cause without yo help I’ll never get in’

Gave a in’ to my mom and I drop the bombs

Like the homeboy rhomes

I’m Back 2 Da Basics


Doin Doin the same ol thing huh

Doin the same old thing

Mac Dre Dollalalala Lotsa Paypa

Dolllalala Lots Of Paper

Dolllalala Lots Of Paper

Preppy Pimp Crestside Riders

Broke 150’s And Top Siders

Whoops Upside Her Head If She Comes Short

Bread I’m A Gunfolk Yea I’m A Cut Throat

Backwood Burner

Mach And Murder

I Pack The Squirter When I Blap The Squirter

Whose Gon Fall Like Tall Timber

Killin Off The Whole Gang All Members

Come In Hurr Never Magnum

She Better Have Them Or I’m Never Stackin

Whatever Happened To The Girl From The South

Suck A Dick So Good They Called Her Pussy Mouth

Pussy’s Foul But They Heads A Plus

If I Put Her In Heels And A Little Make Up

And Hit Vvegas Will She Make Us

Dollalalala Lots Of Paper

Mac Dre Be About Yo Doe



Wut sup cuttie

Pass me that radio raheem

So I can do my thing

Yeah mac drizzle

[Mac Dre:]

I’m the kind of nigga that’ll come through and yoke on you

Burnin rubber in the shitnell, with the 4-0-2

Dippin, dashin, smashin

Through the traffic

Smokin, chokin, hopin,

I rap it

‘Cause my candy’s look wet, three coats of clear

Miami’s on deck with three quartes of beer

Clownin all the freaks but he still gets jocked

Bouncin in the seat while the 15’s knock

I’m dipped in butter everybody jocks my style

Cal hat pulled down to my eyebrow

Polo geared down

I’m in her ear now

Stealin it, she’s feelin it, it’s all clear now

One more hoe, on my team

I’m a pimp homeboy, what do you mean

It’s all about scrilla in the land of thugs and killers

Gangstas, pimps, players, and drug dealers

[Chorus: x2]

If you, wanna fuck with me

Be about yo doe, I gots to have doe

I’m just trying to let you know

It’s 2 in the morning and I’m still chasin cash

Other niggaz in the club, still chasin ass

Fuck theezat

I’m all about my screezatch

I got my fishing pole out trying to ceezatch

A big fish, I’m hungary, need a big bitch

I’m a bump a bitch with the quickness

Boy it’s just pimpin in my blood

Bitches, they all give him love

The Mac name Dre bitch, take it easy

You fuckin with a street nigga that’s greasy

I’ll buck yo brotha, fuck yo motha

Keep it on the DL, it’s all undercover

I’m a hustler bitch, I pull capers

I only fuck with thugs that get paper

Chips, chedda, scrilla, real niggaz, killaz, and drug dealers

[Chorus x2]

24 hours, 7 days a week

I do my thug thang, playin in them streets

But the game I play really ain’t no joke

Come around my way and you might get smoked

Bullet proof vest’s, Chevy SS’s

Come through in a bucket

The next day in a Lexus

It’s a ghetto life

I don’t have no wife

Boy I’m married to the game and I handle my

Business, I’m in this for the money not the honey

Square bitches spooked, they all run from me

Dummy, bitch, if you knew better, you do better

I’m a stay on bitch back like new sweaters

Mac Dre baby

Quit talkin crazy

When you get about some money

It’s all gravy

Ask my last bitch square, that’s all realla

I only fuck with pimps, killaz and drug dealers

[Chorus x2]