| Yeah
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| Spice muthafuckin One
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| Coolin in Cali
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| Kickin that gangsta shit
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| You get with it?
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| Hopped in my Blazer, mashed off and left a boy in his car, then
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| Tagged him with the skull and bones, cause he be soften
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| Hollow like a head without no brains inside
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| And his girl was so damn small, you had to strain your eyes
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| Got to the corner, hit a left, seen the HPD
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| That’s when I knew that they were after S-p-i-c-e
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| Turned up my music and dashed, goin 90, I mashed
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| Bullet holes all in my window from a 12-gauge blast
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| He was all on my ass, I had to think real fast
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| Hooked a left, all of a sudden heard a boom and a crash
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| Tried to catch the cold, sold the devil his soul
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| Had his car and his face wrapped around a pole
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| With my vogues still smokin hit 580 to Oakland
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| Still upset with the police because my window was broken
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| But my beat was still bumpin and my amp was still pumpin
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| And my nine was in my lap if any funk was jumpin
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| Got the 20th and Nice as I kicked my tune
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| Hooked a left on 23rd and seen my homeboy June
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| Jumped straight out like an arrow, had more gold than the pharaoh
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| Had my Nikey sweat suit on and it was read like a sparrow
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| I told him what had happened and he already knew
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| He said, You got a little funky with a fake-ass crew
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| The bass went boom and your gun went bang
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| And all you could see was flames
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| At that very moment Coke and Ray started laughin
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| And slapped each other’s hands and said, It’s all about blastin
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| In the city streets
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| City streets
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| Kickin it at the park shootin craps with some homies
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| My first roll was a 7, so niggas can’t get on me So since my point is 4, I left a Little Joe
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| I’m kissin on the dice and I’m pimpin em like my hoe
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| So then I roll again, I’m fuckin with Big Ben
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| Now I ain’t fade jack because I’m knockin with that ten
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| I picked up the dice, shook em up and rolled once mo'
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| What came out the do'? |
| Whaddaya know, I hit that 4
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| Fuckin with the dank I’m hearin Marvin Gaye’s oldies
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| Fadin another 20, took a sip of my 40
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| There go my homie G-Nut with the gin and the juice
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| My nigga’s always fuckin with that 187 proof
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| I took a big-ass gulp and feelin quite tipsy
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| Knowin I’m like this these niggas try to cheat me Huh, they can’t get with me, I put em in his place
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| Then G-Nut threw the gin and busted a nigga in his face
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| I thought it was quite funny, and I began to smirk
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| The fat-ass niggas face was grounded lyin in the dirt
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| So I picked up my mail, and I’m about to go Cause I’m about that mo’money, mo’money, mo'
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| Now homie on his face, he rolled over just like that
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| And said, This is a jack, gimme all my fuckin money back
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| I act like I was scared, gave his money back fast
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| And when he tried to leave, I busted a cap up in his ass
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| These niggas out the kitchen if you can’t take the heat
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| Cause muthafuckas gank ya, shank ya, sank ya in the city streets
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| The city streets
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| A few weeks back I robbed a nigga for a ki Kickin it on the block, slingin d to o-p-e
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| Yo, runnin from the five-o, you think this shit is funny
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| By any means necessary I must make my money
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| If niggas try to fade me, I pull out my nine
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| And pop-pop-pop-pop a nigga from behind
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| In this world of madness muthafuckas die
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| Niggas sling and bang, and bitches always lie
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| So I choose to be murderous and chop up niggas’bodies
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| And set like an example, a villain like John Gotti
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| The muthafuckin gangsta S-p-i-c-e
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| They ring my mobile phone, now who the fuck could that be?
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| Bitch, I said don’t call me, I’m busy clockin g’s
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| I thought it was the fuzz, but some niggas told me 'freeze!'
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| The barrel was my back, it’s a muthafuckin jack
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| I knew I shoulda packed, I ain’t goin out like that
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| These niggas caught me slippin, and fuck a yellow sack
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| Niggas must be trippin cause they Daytons touch my back
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| I hopped out of my shit and told him go ahead
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| And when he tried to leave I busted a cap up in his head
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| With blood all over his face is how the homie fled
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| I dragged him out the car and filled his corpse full of lead
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| These niggas out the kitchen if you can’t take the heat
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| Cause bitch, I’m a gangsta, shank ya, sank ya in the city streets
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| Aight, Banks
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| Let’s pack the shit up, mayn |