Giggs, Gunna Dee, Y.Butch - Matic lyrics

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

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

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 pussyholes
I put it close and squeeze the fifth
So fuck 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

Matic, Matic, Matic, Matic m-M-M-M