This is a song about "Machine gun"

C.r.e.a.m over niggas! get the dollar machine!

Down in miami, with a super ho team

Your going against the mean killing machine

Through the years tryin to stack a little green

Clean time, lean fucking killing machine,

Eyes real low, just blame it on the green

But whatever it is baby hope you pledge to your dreams, forever my queen

Mind's eye spinning, desperately trying to hit the jackpot slot machine

My rhymes are machine guns, semi-automatic

You're goin' to hear this and begin to ride on my dick

I stay spitting bars like metronome candy machine.

I’m lost without them, when they around i am charles sheen

What it means to know your momma or your father on that pipe

But i show the black machine gun funk when the time is right,

I wonder so often

Grab my knife and my gun