Mic’s Down

[Intro: Dom Pachino]
S.I.N.Y., yeah

[Chorus 2X: Dom Pachino]
You hear that tight sound, put your mic's down
You are fucking with the realest niggas right now
We got the street support, watch us leave the court
They turn us loose, cuz our lawyer's a beast in court

[Dom Pachino]
Watch how I slide out the courtyard, and hop in the sportscar
I can't prove how I make these funds, that's not my fault, ya'll
In my passenger seat, is a fashion freak
Un pocito Engle', but she don't have to speak
Got a rack like Mariah, after the boob job
Have my balls swimmin' in saliva, like a pool, pa
I hustle, but my zone ain't free like a school yard
Gotta get my weight up, nigga, pay my dues, hard
Let me introduce you, to the Goon Squad
Paco Hacito Cito, leave ya food scarred
Have you doomed, buried, where's ya tombs, God?

[Chorus 2X]

[Dom Pachino]
Yeah, you don't wanna turn us loose
You don't wanna let us go, we might fuck up you flow
You fucking with a real pro, Napalm general
Dom Pachino, I keep killing these tracks
That's how I creep through, I make the track lethal
I make the track make the people, bump and jump
And throw they hands up, when they see us in the concert
We don't gotta make pop music to make you bop
Nigga, I'm back on my shit
Come the The Pillage, you can visit my projects and shit
And see where I come from, see what I've been through
See I'm a rebel, and I'm back on the muthafuckin' treble
And the muthafuckin' bass, giving ya'll a taste
Of that Staten Island shit, it's hot
You should rock sunscreen, little bitch...

[Chorus 2X]