This is a song about "Little big mac craig"

So these bars not mine, nigga it's yours

Slaughterhouse, big sean, and big smalls,

You walked into vic tanny's and stepped on jenny craig

We blow jars of the dank, like bob marley was wake

Thinking you're all big with your little crew,

Grew with disdain though i hate whoever ain't you

Then write another hook in my mac book

Aye, hold your head homie, look

While i am poppin' like a snappin' crack

It's supper time and i need my cheesy mac

Half these niggas working now, they knocked it down, they're going back

Money from the safe in the back, stepped in waving the mac

Play this back or smoke your crack can't fuck with mac...

Dead faces keep my money in a body bag