This is a song about "Macs"

When it come to pistols, these niggas don't john lynch them

They would act like they packed macs and smoked hash when,

Remember this face, save me a place, in thug's mansion

Just let them know you're like machete blows, got macs packin',

And dj's play my records cause i make the needles dance

These are real facts, now i don't deal crack, i'm packing macs,

The tracks on snack off raps, see stacks from back of my slacks

Get those dope fighters that you talk about with mac-10s,

With these macs i've got a bad habit

Platinum and gold, you gots to love that

I'm also strapped with macs, i be on dat crack.

Pump, fake, jumpshot, ball hit the back

She said look ma, no hands and no darling i don't dance

These are real facts, now i don't deal crack, i'm packing macs,