Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 360°, artist - 8Ball. Date of issue: 18.05.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
360° |
| Weeblelations, testin', testin', testin', testin' |
| Hey, turn my mic up, this a bitch, I got my dudes up in this mutha fucka |
| That boy 8ball, 4-Tay, Speeze-weeze, Spice-weeze, ya smell me? |
| It’s E-feeze, mutha fuckaz ain’t understandin' the signs of this |
| I cuss a mutha fucka out |
| Niggaz gon' be feelin' what I’m revealin' |
| Tryin' to do some healin' an' at the same time make a million |
| Vibrate love an' happiness in this ghetto maze |
| Hate us playaz, got this ryhme stayin' in a rage |
| Kill wit a pill, broke game like Nintendo |
| Three hours an' fourty-four minutes straight to Frisco |
| Bumpin' the rappin', 4-Tayzee baby |
| Me an' 40 Water in the big body Mercedes |
| Four hundred, five hundred V-12 black Coupe |
| None of my weebles wake that Barkley comin' out the roof |
| Choppin' major game on the strength |
| Man, we goes back juss like them splinters an' 'em temps, uh |
| Met this bitch that was in Houston, said she was from Houston though |
| Said her profession just was stackin' major paper roll |
| First at times it seems, gold credit cards, we kiss that ass |
| Went from Bennies to Bossalini’s, collectin' cash |
| They whistlin', I’m glistin' like Sammy Davis |
| Born an' raised in the Bay, them hataz can’t fade us |
| I am the rapper that they call 4-Tay |
| 360 degrees, they can’t fade the Yay, fool |
| Fuckin' off in the Bay wit some crazy niggaz |
| Gettin' drunk, gettin' high, so they saved ya nigga |
| From the bottom of the stream to the top of the mountain |
| In the 'O' straight clownin', talkin' 'bout what’s goin' down |
| An' these niggaz feelin' me, soakin' up the love I give |
| Nigga, all of us got kids, an' only got one life to live |
| But sometimes that shit don’t matta |
| Animosity can lead we to ratta-tatta, splatta |
| All over shit leavin' tricks motionless |
| Drinkin' blood like I been spittin' fire like kiss |
| The only nigga sick as this behind me |
| Is the gangsta, S P I C E |
| (Yeah, smell me, yo) |
| Five albums in the game, 500 Benzo in my name |
| Five niggaz in a bucket, five zig-zags to the brain |
| To the greedy lil' paper, I’m on the MTV news |
| I’m havin' slugs fo shistey niggaz, tryin' ta give me the blues |
| I ain’t a mutha fuckin' Italian but my crew run like the Mafia |
| 8ball, 4-Tay, Banks an' 40 Water |
| An' me Bossalini, Freddy Chico, Chanelle shit |
| Met a couple of incidents where some niggaz tried to kill me |
| Just a part of the game, jealous niggaz out fo' fame |
| When steady bustin' at me is to give no name |
| But when they runnin' up on this muthafuckin' Don |
| They catchin' pieces of hell, hot slugs from a nigga |
| That’s fresh out on bail |
| Long time comin', baby, somewhere off in the hills |
| Me an' 40 Waters choppin' it up, keep or kill |
| On the real about this underground lifestyle |
| Intoxicated an' always heavily sedated |
| Bank’s rocks the beat, I grab the mic an' bust |
| Turn into a monster, eatin' weak MC’s up |
| Smokin' trees up, pinnin' hoes knees up |
| Feds wouldn’t ease up, had to put the keys up |
| Findin' Jesus prayin' fo the weak |
| Hopin' somebody’s on they knees prayin' fo' me |
| In the midnight hour, somewhere on them drugs |
| In a room full 'o thugs, 40' tell 'em how it was |
| They shot my mama’s house up, back in 1992 |
| I keep goin' back an' play possum like I don’t know who |
| If I knew who? |
| What? |
| When? |
| Where an' how? |
| If I knew back then, would I know now? |
| The rap game ain’t never gon' be decreasin' |
| The only thing the rap game gon' keep on doin' is increasin' |
| And there will be no over night sensations them 40, 8ball, MJG |
| Only drip we been layin' it down since Trout season |
| Now, all of a sudden I look good as Toni Braxton |
| In a white house wit toys of traction |
| Up-percussion, ya may wanna take a second look |
| You can find me in the Florida designs book |
| The hall of game, is a 420 wit chrome rims all day |
| Parked up on |
| Nigga, this ain’t none of that only reason I’m doin' a song wit dude |
| An 'em is 'cuz I want they region, recognize game |
| Game recognize game |
| 360 degrees of game, talkin' 'bout game, talkin' 'bout game |
| 360 degrees of game wit hella bomb on the brain |
| 360 degrees of game, talkin' 'bout game, talkin' 'bout game |
| 360 degrees of game wit hella bomb on the brain |
| A-la, la, la |
| A-la, la, la |