Maccin’ to Slob b*tches lyrics

[Intro: Do or Die]
Yeah, huh, this some of that G-ass Crip sh*t, you know what I'm sayin’? Fuccin' with 'em Slob-ass b*tches, fuccin’ 'em and leavin' 'em wrecced, from the C-Side, haha, so uh, sparkle the mothafuccin' Chronic joint, roll it

[Verse 1: Do or Die]
Yo, I've been rippin' the cheeks of thousand b*tches quiccly
Never see a b*tch in this world ever did me
And I been fuccin' Slob b*tches on the daily
Fuccin’ ’em so well now them Slob b*tches pay me
'Cause it’s C on them nights on the 'Shaw
I'm fuccin' them switches like they never seen befo’
Slob b*tches jocc so I let 'em succ my dicc
And bust a good nut all over that burgundy sh*t
Like Cuddy Mary, with nut in her hairy
Twat then leave her on the 'Shaw at the spot
For the next n*gga to wrecc that b*tch
Then roll to the ave for another Slob chicc
She belongs to a b*tch-made n*gga Slob
But she likes to slob on this Crip's knob
Then go bacc to that punk redruM
Let his ass simp but won't give none
As I leave, hittin' them switches
Bumpin' that C-Side, maccin' to them Slob b*tches
Yeah, huh, maccin' to them Slob b*tches
Maccin' to them Slob-ass b*tches

[Verse 2: Blue Ragg]
Smaccin', slappin', and maccin' to you Slob b*tches
Makin' you hoes, to make me some riches
'Cause I don't give a damn about a Snoop tramp
Fiendin' for my dicc like a junkie finnin' to get amp
But hold up you little tricc sl*t
I gives a damn about your big ol' burgundy butt
I take my size nine and keep ridin' the ass
Hard, swift, smoove, quicc and fast
To let you know, how I wrecc a Snoop hoe
Put you on the corner, to make me some dough
In fat ass not to least three a guap
You come short, b*tch, you get a cranium knocced
That's gonna take at least nine stitches
I'm movin' to yo' friends, still maccin' to you Slob b*tches
Aw yeah, still maccin' to you Slob b*tches
[Verse 3: Mr. C-Rider (DJ BattleCat)]
Huh, yeah, C-Rider on the motherfuccin' mic, checc it out
Bring the vinegar and (?) and all that sh*t
I want you squeaky clean from head to toe and under the tips
Now the Slob, you bleedin' b*tch like the one of behinds
I like your booty naked bendin' over from behind
Little Dead Ridin' Hood, I know you wanna succ
c*mmin' fast as my dicc succ a boom fucc
Hoe, I thought you knew just all this time this dicc is mine
It's my baby, she's a Crip, [?] one to find
That's how I'm livin' in the year '93's a tramp
And how you live in doggy sh*t, with your food stamps
Talkin' about come bacc to me
I dig you and your homies from all we see, HUH
That's wrong with this n*gga at no butts, liccin' her ass, succin' her feet, and manure out the cut of a [?]
And then maneuvre (?) change the rich
That's what's wrong when you slip in then you triccin', liccin' the ass of a Slob b*tch
Yeah, n*gga, maccin' to you Slob b*tches
Mothafuccin' C-Ridin' on y'all mothafuccin' knucclehead b*tches

[Verse 4: OG Sin Loc Blaccburn]
I guess it's a Slob b*tch, that Sin Loc, has been to fucc with
Dippin' and dabbin', rollin' in my mothafuccin' '66 Buccet
Maccin' to a b*tch in red
And if I get the pus*y when I finish, I'mma put one in her forehead
I guess it's part of the trade
With the b*tch drinkin' up nut, like Thunderbird and Kool-Aid
I know you like to hear this sh*t
A down-ass Crip n*gga maccin' to some Slob b*tches
Aw yeah, maccin' to some Slob b*tches
Straight maccin' to some Slob b*tches
[Verse 5: OG Domino]
Now me and some of the homies from the hood were in a G thang
Rollin' up to the Compton Swap Meet for some B-I-T-C-HES, yeah, b*tches
The kind-ass flammin' wearin' hairy fly switches
Hopped out the wagon, C-rads on the gold ones
And I'm fucced up, still sippin' on a cold one
Claimin' (?) locs, she a little proper
But she ain't sh*t 'cause I already popped her
So I finally see a new b*tch to pull but she trippin'
Sportin' that Chicago bullsh*t
I approached her thinkin' it ain't no thang but God damn
The b*tch had the red shoestrangs
Is she one of those visit to a T
These kinda b*tches look for givin' VD
She's from the stankin' side so you know it don't clicc
Tramp-ass sl*tty-ass Slob-ass biatch!