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Mac

Genres: Hip-Hop

Nobody Make A Sound Lyrics - Mac

Alright, we got Mac, Magic, Fiend 

And fa sho we got 2-4-1 up in this bitch 

You know what I'm sayin'? 

And if any of you motherfuckers move 

Y'all gon get your fuckin' heads blown off 

Ya heard me? 

 

Alright, nobody move, nobody die 

If you thinkin' about breathin' 

Then I'ma open fire tonight 

Everybody's gonna die tonight 

 

Mr. Magic, you pat 'em down, 2-4-1 y'all duct tape 'em 

And if anybody move Fiend gon disenegrate 'em 

Startin' with you and you 'cuz I told y'all not to breathe 

Now I want the rest of y'all to watch them motherfuckers bleed 

 

Throw down your rollies 

Your Gucci's, your 'Sace's 

And your new Jays and your cellphones 

And anything else that cost over a hundred bones 

 

Alright, I'ma pat everybody down, so keep your heads to the floor 

Whoever in charge of this bitch better point me to the door 

I'm lookin' for the loot, so me and my people can leave 

But any dis-cooperation and one of you bitches gon bleed 

 

I'm 'bout that drama, ask my mama, she ain't raise no punk 

I'm 'bout that murder, you motherfuckers better smell my trunk 

They call me Magic 'cuz I'm known for makin' my victims disappear 

Fear? Naw nigga that shit ain't happen 'round here 

 

Now everybody lay it down, nobody make a sound 

I got fifty fuckin' rounds 

Now everybody lay it down, nobody make a sound 

I got fifty fuckin' rounds 

 

Lights beamin', we screamin', we gonna get cha 

2-4-1 we're dumpin' in the clip with the triggers 

We gotta be bad, you better get ready 

We're gonna do your ass like Jason or either like Freddy 

 

The time has come, the clock has ticked 

Man hold up, this is your last trick 

Off the hook, it's the way, let us reign 

Niggas better know this ain't no motherfuckin' game 

 

Now what I got to get it done? 

The M-1, I borrowed from Big Ed 

My chopper got a spittin' tongue 

And when it hums, it speaks ya to death 

 

I ain't got no problem with you, well maybe I do 

You got what I want 

And either till you give it up, I'ma split ya up 

And don't think that I won't 

 

Don't got much time to tell about the murder tale 

To each one of y'all 

But that last motherfucker that ain't really wanna give it up 

Just be here with y'all 

 

What cha mean that nigga 

Fiend ain't got the gall? 

My nigga Mac gave the call 

Murder, murder, kill, kill, burn up all y'all 

 

Now everybody lay it down, nobody make a sound 

I got fifty fuckin' rounds 

Now everybody lay it down, nobody make a sound 

I got fifty fuckin' rounds 

 

Now everybody lay it down, nobody make a sound 

I got fifty fuckin' rounds 

I told you bitches lay it down, everybody made a sound 

So we shuttin' this bitch down, ya heard me? 

Writer: ,

Copyright: Ultra Tunes