| I been repping and running the block, since the age of my youth | 
| A gangsta guerilla go-getter, certified as a troop | 
| I done had it with niggaz, the only thing that I’m bringing is plex | 
| Got me feeling like Kobe Bryant, dumping off eight repping the West | 
| Get off of me homie, cause I’ve been known to click on the cool | 
| I’m a damn fool, and ain’t no games fin to be played with the tool | 
| I’m sick, and I bet you niggaz just don’t want it with Trae | 
| Cause if I pull it I’ma spray, and put a slug in your vertebrae | 
| Maabing you bitch niggaz, better get out the zone | 
| Or else you fin to see me make my slugs, get out the chrome | 
| When that Mack get to spitting, you gon get out your home | 
| I’m sick of telling you bitch niggaz, to get the fuck on I mean it, you motherfuckers better play your positions | 
| Respect the code of the streets, before your bitch ass be missing | 
| Or slid up under some’ing swoll up, and blacked out | 
| Better give me fifty feet, 'fore I make your lights out | 
| I done had enough, of you niggaz | 
| Eyes wide open, I ain’t trusting you niggaz | 
| Me and Lil’Trae, bout to bust on you niggaz | 
| Prepare for the worst of the worst, when I’m rushing you niggaz | 
| (I done had enough, of you niggaz | 
| Eyes wide open, never trusting you niggaz | 
| Me and Mack Biggers, bout to bust on you niggaz | 
| Load the clip finna trip when I’m rushing you niggaz, had enough of you | 
| niggaz) | 
| I done had enough of you fake cats, faking the Maab | 
| Now I plan on taking your job, or breaking you off | 
| Taking the chips and breaking your jaw, flaming your car | 
| With cop killers, when invading your yard | 
| That’s just a taste of the Maab, Mack Biggers was shot but I saved the bomb | 
| And when I squeeze, only Jesus can save you boy | 
| Now what y’all know, about banging and rob | 
| Or going state to state, slanging it raw | 
| See me I play no games, and say no names | 
| And I’m sick and tired of you niggaz, that play hoe games | 
| Y’all so close to being dames, so if I say your name | 
| Best believed it’s a bullet aiming, at your brain | 
| From the streets to the Penn, nigga respect my gangsta | 
| Even when I’m draped in flames, with the best of the bangers | 
| And only cop killers, rest in the chamber | 
| I done had enough of you niggaz, see y’all messing with danger | 
| I’m sick of you niggaz, you bout to get me back in the stage | 
| Of whipping a nigga ass to the flo', and dumping slugs out the gauge | 
| Why these niggaz don’t understand, that it be real in the field | 
| Disrespecting my gangsta ways, will be enough to get you killed | 
| I got killas on every corner, guerillas ready to mob | 
| If you try me thinking I’m playing, I bet I’ll get to the job | 
| You walking a thin line, old cake ass nigga | 
| Plus I had it up to here, with all you fake ass niggaz | 
| What y’all know about Mack Biggers, and Trae the Guerilla Maab | 
| And the Planet of the Apes, invading the planet of the fakes | 
| Bout to test a nigga stamina, with a K Bound to catch a slug dog, if you standing in the way | 
| We could do it for my nigga Charge, or we can do it for Dinkie | 
| Regardless of the fact, we gon leave you nigga stinking | 
| And if you survive the ride, we gon leave you niggaz thinking | 
| Whenever we around dog, it’s best you stop blinking |