Lyrics 187 Dance - C-Bo

187 Dance

187 don’t stop —
Cuz it’s 187 —
187 don’t stop —
Cuz it’s 187 —
Top down, side ways through the town
Suckas want fo’cuz I hit they block for a second round
Lets who ride and buck these suckas down quick
Pop in the clips and skips down these fool’s strip
Straight to they sto', breakin they ass off something proper
The gun G-O-D's pulled up, sitting on choppers
Cuz you know I can’t be slippin in the '94
So put up a glock, cuz we be buckin with them 4.4's
45. Auto Mag.
.30 round clip.
Fully Mag
P-30, mini-14.
Desert Eagle, 55 Braggets
I guess I’m tired of getting crept on, stepped on We load the high explosives talons when the?
sweats on?
So put up your duke as I get deeper you shoot for the one in the deuce
Drop the top of the block, poppin the glide, I pursue
It’s just another g fillin yo bad ass up to the rim
Pop the clip with a mack-10
Hop out the truck and drop that grin
Cuz like A, I’m in it to win it and plus?
paper G So make way, ??
Mack at ya front teeth
Cuz when you playing with mines, you playin with yo life
So don’t be starting
You wake with fullies strapped at your bed side
Chiddy-chiddy bang bang, nothing but that Garden game
Who ride, and?
old records.
Get your face re-arranged
Cuz on my block, 24−7 fools be poppin they glocks
In the strip, poppin they clip
Puttin in work, letting it rip
As they keep fallin
the day we spend it cuz g’s be keep ballin
No time for stallin
A .30 round clip and the shots I’m callin.
Cuz in this game, when you livin it strange aim for the brain
It’s all for one and one for all cuz in the game only one gangst'
Proceed with caution
uz like hoe suckas, I be tossin
Dead bodies are bridges
One to the head, then broke out in ditches
Before you step to the psycopath lunatic
H ave yo gat in yo hand and ready for the 187 dance!
187 don’t stop —
Cuz it’s 187 —
C-Bo: So listen up for the cock
187 don’t stop —
Cuz it’s 187 —
C-Bo: So listen up for the cock
I woke in the morning with a .9 to my head
thinking that I’m dead
Surprised to see the TAS and the damn feds
I knew it was over
Bo Loc done got struck in the game
Po-po's got me face down on the bed by a big bag of 'caine
And I’m thinkin in my head 'I just left Y.A.'
Now on my way to the penitentiary for a yola case
Damn I’m struck like the?
that’s all I can say
Cuz I be countin down from 20 years, every 365 days
In the game when you stuck, you stuck up the river with bad luck
Where suckas be getting that ass tucked
It’s off the?
and off the buck
And I believe in eight millions of ways to die
Cuz if you Black and believe in gettin licked
Then you believe in getting fried
Snatched from floor by officer Town’s and one of his punk boys?
Got crack in my pockets, 1700, the canines got me 'noid
But I play dumb.
Bo Loc got that decomposure
Last night, settled for ten, hold up for 20 game, still got me doja
And I’m thinkin 'this just a dank game nightmare'
Shotguns and glocks and I can see the siren lights
Then out the do’on my — face
Hands cuffed tightly behind my back and they still doin me like a slave
Cant fight back cuz I’m shackled
from my wrist to my ankles and now these pigs wanna wrestle
They drug me down to the county
Took three Gs out my pocket and beat me down to the ground
G, the stuff got hectic
Getting triple-teamed by three punk white detectives.
Im coughing up blood, holdin on my ribs
For every hit I’m thinkin bout killin all they kids
One kicked and missed, slipped in my blood
I made a G-move
So ???
Went for his holster, itchin to get my blast on
I’d rather be dead than tanked up, gettin stomped on 187 dance on these punk suckas
Try to take ya boy out the game like a busta
Now they know what it’s like gettin with a psycho
With the Garden Blocks it’s all about survival (echoed)
187 don’t stop —, Cuz it’s 187 —
So be prepared with a cop
187 don’t stop —, Cuz it’s 187 —
Watch ya back when it cock
187 don’t stop —, Cuz it’s 187 —
So let me catch ya on my block
187 don’t stop —, Cuz it’s 187 —
Be prepared with a cop