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Intro:
Yeah, I heard niggaz out here talking major shit you dig But ain't no motherfucker step to me and said "Spice you a punk" Cause you know I whup his motherfuckin ass Chorus: Niggas be muggin me, Don't show no love for me Don't playa hate me love tha thug in me Now when I walk on by, niggaz be muggin me Don't playa hate me love tha thug in me Now if your hoe come knockin at my door, she Must want a thug ass nigga for sure Cause it's the young playa Spiz-ice and I be stacking my paper 24 motherfuckin 7, a nigga havin it major Now we can do this like playas or we can hop into some gangsta shit Niggas be tryin to clown, when your bailin with your bitch I almost fell, gettin up out the car but see I had to pistol whip the nigga because he knows who we are We the niggas with the Lex's, Rolexes laced up with diamonds Timer, Timer, Baller, Baller she fucked with the shot caller now Didn't need no scrilla to get her, she want a thug nigga Poppin collars, and at the same time clockin dollars Real as they come I got soldiers ready to rob at night And when a nigga goes to your jar you don't attempt to fight You playa hate daily, talkin the shit on the ace But you a bitch cause you never talk the shit to my face Chorus 2X I put the pedal to the metal and uh jump the Chevy heavy in the game But about four five different ghetto names I can't be tamed I'm a G to my heart I can't be changed I've been breaking these niggaz down from the start I'm hearing shit up in the streets man, niggaz is crazy I've been serving them dope fiends on that block since you was babies And the world is yours, nigga you can have it all But if you talk bad on this G ass nigga you'll take a fall, blaaaow How many hoes want a nigga that get his ass kicked Car took, whupped and jacked ain't got no get back I ain't the type to let no nigga jack me Baby we cool if they run up on the Caddy Chorus 2X I'm off the Hennessy, when it's me she's callin right back I'm up in the Benzo on the mobile spittin the game off the yack I'm strapped with two blacks, cuz I ain't the baller who be out there slippin She understands niggaz be playa hatin so she ain't trippin Saggy pants G-braids but nigga still out to get paid I'm keepin my mind up on my money and all my money is made Shadetree niggaz be tryin to get in my mix Conflicts, 40 caliber cliques when I be burying tricks She seen me knock niggaz out now I do walkbys Now I put faulty ass niggas between them chalk lines See everybody be lookin when I be bailin, trailin indo smoke See it ain't nothing but the smooth sailin And now I kick back and enjoy my riches on a sunny day But sucka ass niggaz be all up in my way You're secure don't you worry bout a thang I got these two twin glocks and when they cocked this is what they say Chorus 2X |
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| 2. |
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Chorus: I'm high (repeat 6X)
S-P-I-C-E about to hit it and crawl Pull up the vega make it fat nigga got the crush nasty for a playa Purple Haze got me hittin the switches and rollin bats up With some niggaz who don't want to put the gats up I'm high til I kick the bucket Fuck it, throw some blunts on my coffin and I'll smoke it with the dead niggas Light it up like the Fourth of July Type of chronic make a dead nigga wake up high I get tired and ? pussy And niggaz know I got to smoke about half ounce, before I flow It ain't no ? in my zig-zag, I roll my blunt There ain't no weed in the studio, we on a hunt To get the sticky ass green shit, shut em down You can find a little chron' spot in every town Nigga sell a twenty ten sacks up on the block Break the doobies in the ashtray down to roll a chopper I'm addicted to the THC, gettin fucked up Leave your doobies around they gettin sucked up Lungs like a motherfuckin vacuum cleaner Mobbin on the fine Betty's smokin out the Beamer Just call me Dr. Bomb from the Bay Hit ya in the chest with the chron like an A.K. Kick back lay back and throw them feet up Sometimes I wanna roll, a whole fuckin tree up I break it down, halves and O's Smoking mold in a broke down sixty-four And ain't no nigga in the world that can outsmoke me The muthafuckin chronic addict S-P-I-C-E Bill Clinton hit the chronic and he didn't inhale But I'm gonna cough a fuckin lung up for niggaz in jail Chorus 4X Smokin pot before twelve, ain't no secret to my homies Step the fuck in your face with the smell of chronic on me It? the C-H-R-O-N-I-C ? with ? about a quarter to three About to loc the fuck up cuz the Fed hit the weed zone And niggaz tryin to sell me backyard homegrown I need the motherfuckin bomb break down the bail Roll it up in a fat ass chocolate zail Mr. Endo smoked em all Which every nigga hit the joint, cough, gag and crawl Suckin in weed smoke with my nose Hit the joint ten seconds hold it in for twenty-four It's puff puff pass Nigga quit fuckin the weed or I'ma bank on your bitch ass Chorus 8X |
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| 3. |
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Ice-T Intro:
Well alright. Spice 1 in the hiddouse (and Short Dawgs in the house bitch). WIth the L.A. Players (soldiers to the game you know?) Yeah. (Peep game fool). Ant Banks at the crackhouse ha ha ha better recognize game when it's in your face bitch). Ice-T: It's obvious mad cash got me gassed Shark tanks and views millionaire cruise buying cars in twos "Never lose" my motto since birth Double up knots and crack spots Snitches lead out by silence gun shots Map the area I wanted to cut the fuckin' cops a deal if they don't kneel, They get peeled Bitches recognize I never have no drama with death Bustas always try I leavin' 'em gagging spittin' up flem Take a pen make a mil and if this shit don't sell I still got the street powder back to flippin' flower South Central nigga what? The representer, damn your girl seen me comin' and ran Young enough to be my daughter My posse use to flip her like a quarter To state to my man for man slaughter Caught her in the stairway took her out the fairway Trunked the punk bitch (That's fair play) Hook: You've got the gangstas that I have tangled baby Bitch recognize game when it's in your face "Well alright ch'all" "ha ha ha" Too Short: You think the town rid of Short? You must be crazy, that silly shit you talkin' just don't faze me I could make a phone call and just like that A bunch of niggas from Oakland all on your back I've never been a shot caller just a nigga in a crew They call me Too Short but I'm still bigger than you bitch I been around you can take a turn but don't get burned I've seen the tables turn Marks turn into killers rich niggas go broke Use to be a wanna but now I'm old school Short In the game never had the stacks since age 14 I been spittin' these raps soakin' up the game up And even when I came up I fucked with same folks Still did the same stuff Bitch Short Dawgs in the house I know you want my dick cause it's all in your mouth Hook Spice 1: Picture the game as a quarter toss it up in the air (uh ha) Heads or tails win or lose broke niggas are players (x2) Say what up to the S.P. crooked I.C.E. Ra rolling with the strap on the side of me Potna don't get it twisted up I got hollow tips extended clips Major chips lookin' at Eclipse jacussi dips Niggas step back I don't know you Don't get to close to me Some niggas ain't really the motherfucker they suppose to be Cloud killers don't aim until you shoot in the air Better put it down and brake some hoes off like a true player Phoney as three dollar bills niggas ain't recognizin' Fell in the relapse besides I'm a trauma a nigga Look in the eyes and when you see me I be hardcore What the fuck a real nigga gotta lie to kick it for? I'm tired of these bubblegum ass niggas throwin' monkey wrenches into the game And all the players and pimps feel my pain Hustlers maintainin' riches and keepin' presidentals Not artfical with fishin' niggas know I'm packin' missles Get me two Bentleys some houses Johnson jet skis Ballin' till I die nigga don't fuck with S.P.I. Hook |
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| 4. |
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Chorus: Spice 1
Can you love a playa man Can you love a playa man Can you love a playa man baby Can you really love a playa man [Spice 1] I twirl the wheel of my caddy with my middle finger Bellin' up out the hooptie mobbin' with my pants sagin' I smokin' on some of that Crush nasty with a G limp It's the born to die the S-P-I Playa status since an OG since Lee High Sportin' a G hat with the short brim Mr. giggity-gangsta hustler baller Whatever you wanna calla Straight playa up in this game Puttin it down for all ya haters Killin' ?m softly raisin' ?m off me Keepin' it real so they can't fade me Up in the 9-sick I kick back and roll a Vega up Rollin with the Hennesy Champaign and Remmy up in my cup Livin' like a baller but I'm still a G Soakin up game in the East Bay street Stackin that fetti S-P-I-C-E Chorus [Spice 1] The game is deeper than Atlantis So homie don't go in the water without your harpoon You swimmin' at your own risk Cuz in the bay ain't no parana But you can get your body ate up When you get to flossin up in that Lexus potna Look what the tied washed in That's what the people say Spiggity One straight OG up out the dirty bay Straight out the water Finna wet you up and leave your body soaked with some of that redrum So come on, come one and come on dem all And watch them bodies fall S-P-I-C-E comin' with that hard to kill a blow! Smile in your face all the while they wanna take your place I was strapped with a gun case But now I'm back out on the paper chase Spittin' ?m game And I'm usin' my mouth piece like Ron O'Neil The G from back in the day They always say I spit the real Keepin' these haters out of my pockets And always watchin' my spine The role of a playa is force and still looks out for mine Chorus [Spice 1] S-P-I-C-E be stackin fetti fetti See I be stackin' ballin' Since way way back in the day The bay area My play area Ain't no crips or bloods But if you cross game then I'm gone carry ya Up out the gangsta party quicker than you can think Rolexes upon the wrist and diamonds on the pinky playa Poppin' the cork on champaign Hundred dollars a bottle We roll in benzes and coups as if we won Lotto Don't let me hear you talk bad about a playa name Cuz if you get your scratch on haters gone do the same Chorus |
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| 5. |
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[Spice 1]
If foes try to jack I'ma blast three Run the fourth nigga over with the caddy Had he not known about the Mac Daddy Slug happy that's born to die Ask why You niggas be out there thinkin you can't ever be touched on Close your eyes and click your Filas and I'm gon' send you home On a one-way mission to CP Bannon My cannon is made for killin Nigga caught up in this mob shit and this drug dealin I'm tellin my momma don't want to be no statistic But realistically I've got my enemies scared shitless All of my homies is killas Surrounded daily by the real niggas with finger-trigs you dig? We big Nigga duck if you want to live Cause it ain't no name on them bullets murderers be dishin you wishin you never got caught up in my gunplay you shoulda listened Now it's too late ain't no turnin back Nigga you done started this I told you once before my trigger gots no heart at this Now shall I proceed to blow your head up off your spinal cord Cause niggas that fuck around with my click is gonna come up short [Chorus] Them come up short in the ghetto them die where them lay This is how we live and die up in the Bay [Spice 1] Remember the real niggas down for the killin and ain't no remorse for you suckas Ruckus is caused when the chrome is exposed to you niggas, leaving your body froze Your flesh is freezin you wheezin paramedics can't stop the bleedin You seein your life before your eyes You hate you leavin Shoulda thought before you pulled the trigger Thats the bitch in you Recognize realize that all our trigger fingers itchy too See we on some old mob shit Everybody guilty of somethin That's why when one dumpin, we all pumpin Tryin to kill us somethin Vacate the facilities when we bailin up in yo' shit Cause the pistol grips make bigger holes then them fuckin hollow tips You fuckin with a soldier Ain't nobody told ya You funkin with niggas that's known for killin niggas over and over this is my gunplay Cops ain't nothin but the Klan undercover Cops ain't nothin but the Klan undercover |
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| 6. |
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Chorus:
I'll be a baller 'til I die I'll be ballin' to my grave nigga, I die a paid nigga I'll be a baller 'til I die I'll be ballin' to my grave nigga, I die a paid nigga I'll be a baller 'til I die I'll be ballin' to my grave nigga, I die a paid nigga I'll be a baller 'til I die I'll be ballin' to my grave nigga, I die a paid nigga Spice 1: Some niggas be all up in my shit, you need to quit Sprinkle a motherfucker that will leave you split Tore back ass out bringing you your hat Flat broke, talking about fuck that nigga S-P-I But you can't go one on one Spice 1 because I'm born to die I gets even up on they ass like punk bitches in ditches The gangsterism resulting in murderism Bailing up in your hooptie at the gas station You facing the killer for real-a punk ass nigga Where the scrilla Jacking you for your shit, taking your ends pull off my mask Hitting the corner, hopping up in my Benz with your cash Mobbing I mash out, you ass out Left you shot up in your seven-trey glasshouse Because you don't know me like you think you do, I'm down for thefetty Ready to die for them presidents, high powered and deadly I ask to ball or not to ball, partner answer the question I meet a nigga running up on my hooptie with Smith and Wesson Chorus Yukmouth: One time for your mind Here to represent the pimps, playas, hustlas, ballers All my niggas on the grind, packing nine millimeters Nine lives like cheetahs, but your still in ??? Drug dealers peep the shit that I kick Hustling, busting down zips making chips If we ain't making it we taking shit To the extreme hit the scenery with machine Gun, get the creamery and ice cream, nobody scream Nobody run, I come like point blank Mobbing the motherfucking bank, looking like Benjamin Frank and Itake So many penitentiary chances, to make Scrilla scratch niggas must have more stack in the safe I mean ???, nigga your safe is my safe And I'm gonna make sure that my safe ain't your safe By putting a .38 up in your face For running up in my place and shake the spot And not expect to get your ass shot Yeah, another one bites the dust, the shyster busts caps at your house Matter fact, niggas don't like the Yukmouth About to L-U, didn't they tell you I'm a youngster trying to have something like my nigga L-Q Ballin' Chorus Spice 1: It's the motherfucking East Bay G with the hundred clipper, savage thugnigga See I was born with the lust for money, chrome plated triggers Mob style haulering 187 up in your face Put a gauge between your throat and tell you that your out of place Motherfuckers don't be knowing we vicious and vicious to get the cheese More tickets to G's, cruises overseas Can't be no punk about the shit that we're in Got to be a soldier to the game or nigga you'll never get your dividends Balling til I die, until I die I'll be a baller Let my riders do the dirt and I'll be the shotcaller Whatever I got to do for the lifestyle that'll pay them forever Never slip stay on my toes nigga walk with the yellow stripe But pull me back, because they cowards and shit I be the nigga that take your drama and put a twist in your the shit Caps get slapped with steel, hot slugs will be your meal Fucking around with my money is just going to get your ass killed Interlude |
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| 7. |
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Blaaw!
[Verse 1:] Nigga who you think you fuckin' with? You ain't no killer I put slugs in niggas opposite leg to get my skrilla Does a blackflip pull out my gat and blow your ass Twenty paces nine millimeter slugs up in they faces Ain't no nigga living alive that could vibe And have me caught up in some bullshit I eat your ass up with the full clip The giggidy giggidy giggidy gangster from the eastside of the Bay Ballin' outta the hooptie with the 50 clip A.K. Blaaw! Niggas don't wanna fuck with me Infared was up in your eye when you rolled up to me I have one bullet up in the chamber ready to put your ass to rest You was strapped with a bullet proff vest and it still went through your chest You fail to realize the size you fuckin' with a killer Boss mobster known to be effective figure [x5] [Hook:] Don't cry when me bleed ya, LR nigga don't let me break you down [x3] [Verse 2:] Don't be fuckin' with my emotions playa Cause a nigga will cut your balls off and feed 'em to you I'd love to do you with this big ass tech to get motherfuckin' respect Woo-ha put your ass in check Leavin' you hoppin' down the street with half your ass hangin' up off your Back So hold your motherfuckin' nutsack I'm off the yack nigga Put your dead homey up in my seat Open up the door and throw his ass out on the concrete See you can't fuck with a killer though YOu catch me bailin' parlayin' but I have to blast at you nigga though Keep it on your ass on the slundin' with the beenie Keepin' you motherfuckers two dollars short of a martinee I'm a straight soldier motherfuckin' player shotcaller boss baller Poppin' muy fuckin' collar hopin' you niggas is feelin' me cause I'm born To die Catch me runnin' in handcuff don't ask me why [Hook:] [Verse 3:] Circular game for murderers coke dealers and deez Gotta get my uzi for niggas that got that love for me Gotta pay my dues in this shit can't get the game for free So at the age of 14 a motherfucker was slangin' D And I've been gang related ever since I came out the womb of my mama Readly for the motherfuckin' drama Seen this Cherokee they start shootin' this bike Will see I hopped out of the hooptie to take they motherfuckin' life Got to bustin' apon they ass with the 4-4 watchin' 'em flee Harder to kill than your average motherfuckin' G Suprise niggas I got you cocked up in sight And Im hopin' I got your punk ass won't be makin' home tonight You cryin' homie that on the reala nigga you fail to realize the size You fuckin' with a killer [Hook] |
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Hook:
5-1-0 and 2-1-3 is you a baller or a G? Spice 1 Intro: Ha ha ha. To thug or not to thug? To G or not to G? See that's the question. Everytime I hit L.A. I get love you know cause I'm from the Bay. Dub C, Big Syke you know Spice 1. Feel me. Spice 1: Count the dollars on the Lexy don't waste your time Let it shine let it shine let it shine Mizzolas and 850 flossin' I'm tossin' Doobies up out the window smokin' often coughin' Chokin' hard up off the indo smoke My mens with extra clips Hennessy Lemon squeeze begin to dip on me The G with the strap up on my side Keepin' these haters apon they toes cause they know I'm ready to ride Hide but you can't get away This is your dead homie you should of put your tool away But you still pull it on me, see I ain't trippin' I got foot soldiers that do dirt for me Love me enough to hurt for me and do some work for me Black roses is sent to the families with all the lives lost Kill 'em soft pay off my henchmen like a mob boss Mobster ballin' out the hooptie Who could it be? S.P.I.C.E. Hook Big Syke: Sound like baller I'm caught up in troubled times Destiny knows help me free my mind What can I do but stay true and be a man I'm just doin' what I can Migrate to Oakland lay low with my dog Spice Hang out with killers and dodge device Gotta pay the price took a life or maybe two (was it two?) I wouldn't of done it if I didn't have to In the wrong place at the right time evil minds learkin' Thought I was over peerkin' searchin' for a home I feel alone On these cold streets, sleepin' on couches with no sheets God guide me hide me from incarceration and start this despiration I'm facin' more time then I really got to give Damn I wanna live in 2-1-3 Hook WC: It's the Dub S.C. on G parolee And although deez steadily grinding for cheese Trunk fulla keys on my way O.T. from 5-1-0 to the 2-1-3 I puts it down bendin' the corner with my all blue Chevy My mind on gettin' the fetti, my heater cocked back and ready With G's crime related, affilated eyes faded Big bodies paper plated stayin' shaded for federated My crews full of nothin' but riders high off the Remy Chuck Taylors neck pieces and knitted beenies (uh ha) Mashin' on the regular hustlin' day and night Went from chronic to water but now we pushin' the China white Much loved by many but now by many hated Trippin' off the the haters lookin' mad cause we made it But don't get mad at me because I executed the game I got my hustle on loc you can do the same Hook |
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Chorus:
Cookin' up yae in the pure form of a rock This is how we clock, stroll up on my block 3 in the morning po-po at my door I'm wonderin' if really po-po at my door This is kill street blues (Alternate 3 & 4)repeat 4X Verse 1: Sit your 5 dollar ass down Nigga 'fore a chief baller make change Cookin' up yae-yo at 3 in the mornin' Choppin' up game sackin' up caine Fetty was layin' all over the floor I guess you cold say that I was slippin' As the door kick in I stick in my clip and begin the dippin' Up on these so called po-po But I know it can't be nuthin' but some niggas Runnin' up in ski masks So I continue to curse and blast that asses out Tryin' to gaffle the scratch my gat consumes Just then my killa partner steps outta the bathroom Uzi's and Mack thangs start lettin' off Niggas catchin' slugs to the face Baking soda some niggas brains cocaine all over the place Took a dive behind the coach Heard a nigga say "We gonn' kill you" My 2 twin gats start talkin' to me said "Fuck them niggas I feel you" So I bail up outta the cut Tryin' ta take lives with no remorse Lookin' like a scene with Laurence Fishborne in "The King of New York" Now it's 3 o'clock in the morning And I still don't snooze 'Cause through my life niggas be given me all these kill street blues Chorus: Verse 2: 1 nigga died high Face down in uncut yae I stuck my finger up in the hole in his body, told him have a nice day My homie said "the real feds is comin'" Said he was hit I pull the bloody corpse off his body, he told me get the shit Ran to the kitchen Hopin' over the deceased Gotta get the rocks money and powder, and evade the police Put the fetty up in my hand Gotta be quick, gotta be nimble Look to my left seen 3 federalles' cars in the window Now it's time for me and my homie To mob the fuck on out As we mob up outta there 3 federalles mob in the house Can't say nuthin' about them other niggas Them haters is out there dead Couple a slugs up in they head, with a house full of feds And ain't no time to be stickin' around I'm hearin' them ambulances and homocides I'm ready to bail outta the scene and flee up in this "G" ride I'm thinkin' my homie heart stopped nigga dyin' on me Partner dropped down to the ground That's when them po-po started firing on me Chorus: Threw the caine down got to mobbin' off As the po-po yelled out freeze (freeze) Lost a down ass homie and the yae-yo man But fuck it I'ma keep the cheese (cheese) My partners eyes wide open Nigga layin' there one breath too short (short) But each time ya nigga Spice 1 hit the corner In a big white cloud of smoke (smoke) Federalles on my bumper baby Fittin' ta show 'em I ain't no punk (punk) Use the right hand to do the drivin' thang And the left hand ready to dump (dump) Led 'em on a high speed chase For about 30 minutes or a little bit more Got a triple thang murder up under my belt 'Bout 60 thousand ta doe (doe) Ohhh nooo Heard a slg hit my back tire Then I spun around Runnin' into the side while tearin' all shit down Bitches was screamin' niggas was cussin' Po-Po bustin' at me (punk ass nigga) Run into the liquor store Knowin' they'll never catch me But soon as I'm thinkin' of makin' my getaway Ain't this a bitch Some fedy with a 12 gauge Put the barrel fight up to my shit (stay right there nigger) Pull out the money and all of a sudden I hit the floor Looked up and see the barrel of Sgt. Kickass' 4-4 Chorus: 2X |
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| 10. |
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Intro: Mack 10
BLaaaow Blam 187 Straight murder display from LA to the Bay Westside, My nigga Spice 1 aka Fetty Chico And I'll be Mack 10 aka Mack Manson What up Spice Spice 1: We serving chickens you damn sure can't get at Roscoe's If you don't want to see no murder then keep your eyes closed Nigga shake the dice up, roll 'em if it's one or ten They won't be able to put your ass together again Leave you in Reece's Pieces, rolling in white cornices Knocking out teethes, I know where we can get the blackheads cheapest From my homie down the street on the block He copping everything from Desert Eagles down to them mini-Glocks If niggas fuck off the money we raise the murder stats Me and my nigga Mack 10 committing terrorist acts You see us bailing don't mumble under your breath Have the heart to say fuck you so I can put five in your chest nigga Don't be no punk, I put my Uzi where my mouth is Yay under couches running out of crack houses We down and dirty for the birdy thirty-five a sack Nigga give up the stack it's Fetty Chico and The Mack Chorus: Fetty Chico and The Mack (Murder Murder) Ma-A-Mack 10 shooter, kill a man looter Fetty Chico And The Mack (Murder Murder) Open up your mouth, Say Ahh, get ready for theBlaaoow Fetty Chico and The Mack (Murder Murder) Ma-A-Mack 10 shooter, kill a man looter Fetty Chico And The Mack (Murder Murder) Open up your mouth, Say Ahh, get ready for theBlaaoow Mack 10: I'm in a murderous mindstate I'm on so much dope and coke I can't even do my line straight I smoke that ??? that shit put me in a trance And since my last LP they start calling me Mack Manson Now when I come around punks know they're gone ??? my pistol around and fall straight into a coma So take if you want it that's my number one motto Hitting licks like the lotto, with a four-five bottle And assault rifles like Rambo full of ammo Dump a nigga in his chest and watch him bleed through his flesh ???...... chicken hawking You kill a nigga, you kill his bitch so she can't talk So I smoked the bitch and made it simple I put one in her temple and got horny as a nympho So with a hard dick and guns, a bad bitch dies I take my two fingers and then I slowly close her eyes Chorus Capping him in his b-brain, with the m-mack t-ten that's my p-partner we d-d-doing him in L-l-leave him in the t-trunk 'til his c-crazy kid kicks one in the ch-chamber off the s-safety I g-got 'em g-got 'em four extra c-clips Infra-red b-beam h-hollow tips D-dirty l-licks m-midnight M-Mack W-One O and l-laser sights R-rollin b-blunts smoking to the doobie In my h-hooptie with my uzi t-talking to me Telling me thought another lick we can go pull off He told me keep your mask on don't take your hood off So me bail into Burger King and me pistol whip the guard Everybody up on the floor nobody try to make it hard Another guard was hiding he jumped out and bust at me So I let him count the bullets in my C-L-I-P Me hear them sirens ringing and me take off with the stack Bailing without the stretch it's Fetty Chico and The Mack 187-187-187-187-Blaaaow Chorus (Murder Murder) Murder murder and Kill Kill Kill World Wide WestSide |
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| 11. |
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(Chorus): 2x
So you wanna be a playa So you wanna be a G So you wanna be a gangsta (2nd time: player) But you don't wanna fuck with me (Verse 1): Diamonds up on the pinky rolexes up on the wrist Take a good look at this old pimpin' ass Nigga you ain't never seen a Mack like this It's the Thug in me Niggas be walkin' round muggin' me ruggin' me Tell your bitch to give me my dick back She pullin' me and tuggin' me Can't be fuckin' round with you cluckhead bitches Don't need no fixin' rubbers Just like my timin' ass partner (E-)40 say Punk bitch y'all burn rubber If that bitch can't swim then nigga she bound to drown What's up with you old ratched mouth ass bitches Tryna talk down on me and the town You bitches better recognize this is 187 proofer Mobbin' out the cut with a fat A.K. and a black on black Lex Luther Ain't no ?? up in this ?? just shut em down crush nasty Right now I'm kickin' this pimp shit but you ho's know I'm the last G In sticky situations will have bust with no hesitation You punk ass niggas don't know my background You just stuck on that player hation Why a nigga wanna talk bad on a timer who been down from the Get Go I can smoke a blunt up in my hot tub don't be trippin' off that old shit though (Chorus): 2x (Verse 2): You niggas ain't never seen me in person tryna assassinate my character Talkin' bout Spice ain't got no paper Bitch I'm a nightmare livin' in America Ain't no paperbag ass nigga hoe I done been through some shit Niggas walkin' round out here I wanna kill Wanna kill me too that's real Punk ass niggas they know who they is runnin' round talkin' shit Oh, fuck that punk ass nigga Spice 1 he ain't nothin but a bitch But one of these days I'ma have your ass chopped up in the back of my Benzo Mobbin' to this old gangsta shit right here smokin' on some of that Indo Too many fuck you bitches up in the game niggas be puttin' too much on it Born and bred to be a Thug ass nigga 2 fingers on 2 twin Glock triggers I know the game ain't got no rules and they got been laced Damn, if so many muthafuckas didn't know my face I would've been offin' you playa hatin' ass niggas a long time ago Would've seen you filled up with slugs would've seen you dyin' real slow But you know what I ain't trippin' off that old shit Cause y'all niggas ain't worth my riches Go head and sit around and chatter my name out I lace more punk ass bitches (Chorus): 2x |
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