| Nineteen ninety nigga sick, FBI all on my dick
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| Life or death, if I had to pick
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| Rather be safe and sound like DJ Quik
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| You might see me smashin ghost, 8−5-0
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| Cuz I move twenty pictures back in '94
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| A bitch ain’t shit if she out for dough
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| Reach back like a pimp, slap the ho
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| Niggas' niggas go to jail, and tell the dirt in the streets
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| I’mma make my pitbulls eat bloody in meat
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| Police wanna see a nigga face defeat
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| Watch the shit get bloody, next time we meet, nigga
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| Suffer the consequences
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| Suffer the consequence
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| I’m always a witness to some type of crime
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| The City I live in’ll make ya lose ya mind
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| If you see a drive-by, act like ya blind
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| If you tell on me, that ass is mine
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| My nigga got caught, wit a half on the third
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| Heard he singin to the feds like a mockingbird
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| Niggas' niggas got to kill him, that’s all I heard
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| Next day is bloody body, got smoke like herb
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| Police askin questions, plus the IRS
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| Know my telephone number, and my home address
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| Momma wonderin how can my baby be involved in this mess
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| From ill street politics I got mental stress, I’mma
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| Police raid my house and found 18 chickens
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| Threw my bitch on the floor, and still screamin and kickin
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| Six in the mornin was the time of the of the stickin
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| Heard nigga don’t move and shotguns clickin
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| Hundred g’s in my safe but I came up short
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| They only said I only had ten when I went to court
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| Plus I got two warrants of child support
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| Ever seen a baller fall, nigga ain’t no joke
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| They say they got a witness, who a testify
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| On conspiracy, and murder wit no alibi
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| I’m thinkin to myself, damn, I wish they all day
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| 25, wit an ill nigga, bound to cry, so I |