| Weeblelations, testin', testin', testin', testin'
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| Hey, turn my mic up, this a bitch, I got my dudes up in this mutha fucka
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| That boy 8ball, 4-Tay, Speeze-weeze, Spice-weeze, ya smell me?
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| It’s E-feeze, mutha fuckaz ain’t understandin' the signs of this
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| I cuss a mutha fucka out
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| Niggaz gon' be feelin' what I’m revealin'
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| Tryin' to do some healin' an' at the same time make a million
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| Vibrate love an' happiness in this ghetto maze
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| Hate us playaz, got this ryhme stayin' in a rage
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| Kill wit a pill, broke game like Nintendo
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| Three hours an' fourty-four minutes straight to Frisco
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| Bumpin' the rappin', 4-Tayzee baby
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| Me an' 40 Water in the big body Mercedes
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| Four hundred, five hundred V-12 black Coupe
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| None of my weebles wake that Barkley comin' out the roof
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| Choppin' major game on the strength
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| Man, we goes back juss like them splinters an' 'em temps, uh
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| Met this bitch that was in Houston, said she was from Houston though
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| Said her profession just was stackin' major paper roll
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| First at times it seems, gold credit cards, we kiss that ass
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| Went from Bennies to Bossalini’s, collectin' cash
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| They whistlin', I’m glistin' like Sammy Davis
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| Born an' raised in the Bay, them hataz can’t fade us
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| I am the rapper that they call 4-Tay
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| 360 degrees, they can’t fade the Yay, fool
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| Fuckin' off in the Bay wit some crazy niggaz
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| Gettin' drunk, gettin' high, so they saved ya nigga
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| From the bottom of the stream to the top of the mountain
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| In the 'O' straight clownin', talkin' 'bout what’s goin' down
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| An' these niggaz feelin' me, soakin' up the love I give
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| Nigga, all of us got kids, an' only got one life to live
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| But sometimes that shit don’t matta
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| Animosity can lead we to ratta-tatta, splatta
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| All over shit leavin' tricks motionless
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| Drinkin' blood like I been spittin' fire like kiss
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| The only nigga sick as this behind me
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| Is the gangsta, S P I C E
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| (Yeah, smell me, yo)
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| Five albums in the game, 500 Benzo in my name
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| Five niggaz in a bucket, five zig-zags to the brain
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| To the greedy lil' paper, I’m on the MTV news
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| I’m havin' slugs fo shistey niggaz, tryin' ta give me the blues
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| I ain’t a mutha fuckin' Italian but my crew run like the Mafia
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| 8ball, 4-Tay, Banks an' 40 Water
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| An' me Bossalini, Freddy Chico, Chanelle shit
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| Met a couple of incidents where some niggaz tried to kill me
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| Just a part of the game, jealous niggaz out fo' fame
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| When steady bustin' at me is to give no name
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| But when they runnin' up on this muthafuckin' Don
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| They catchin' pieces of hell, hot slugs from a nigga
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| That’s fresh out on bail
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| Long time comin', baby, somewhere off in the hills
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| Me an' 40 Waters choppin' it up, keep or kill
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| On the real about this underground lifestyle
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| Intoxicated an' always heavily sedated
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| Bank’s rocks the beat, I grab the mic an' bust
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| Turn into a monster, eatin' weak MC’s up
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| Smokin' trees up, pinnin' hoes knees up
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| Feds wouldn’t ease up, had to put the keys up
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| Findin' Jesus prayin' fo the weak
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| Hopin' somebody’s on they knees prayin' fo' me
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| In the midnight hour, somewhere on them drugs
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| In a room full 'o thugs, 40' tell 'em how it was
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| They shot my mama’s house up, back in 1992
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| I keep goin' back an' play possum like I don’t know who
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| If I knew who? |
| What? |
| When? |
| Where an' how?
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| If I knew back then, would I know now?
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| The rap game ain’t never gon' be decreasin'
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| The only thing the rap game gon' keep on doin' is increasin'
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| And there will be no over night sensations them 40, 8ball, MJG
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| Only drip we been layin' it down since Trout season
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| Now, all of a sudden I look good as Toni Braxton
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| In a white house wit toys of traction
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| Up-percussion, ya may wanna take a second look
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| You can find me in the Florida designs book
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| The hall of game, is a 420 wit chrome rims all day
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| Parked up on
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| Nigga, this ain’t none of that only reason I’m doin' a song wit dude
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| An 'em is 'cuz I want they region, recognize game
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| Game recognize game
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| 360 degrees of game, talkin' 'bout game, talkin' 'bout game
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| 360 degrees of game wit hella bomb on the brain
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| 360 degrees of game, talkin' 'bout game, talkin' 'bout game
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| 360 degrees of game wit hella bomb on the brain
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| A-la, la, la
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| A-la, la, la |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 360 Degrees , by - Spice 1. Song from the album Hits II: Ganked & Gaffled, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп