| Hey, nigga, gimme some of them water and chip’s, shit
|
| (other man)
|
| Lock 'em up, nigga, lock 'em, bullshit
|
| (man)
|
| Hey, look, nigga
|
| Get out there, nigga
|
| These niggas ain’t so briz-ight, right
|
| We gon' get in and get out
|
| (other man)
|
| We on a roll, nigga
|
| I’m a walkin dead man
|
| Fuckin' wit deez out-a-town niggas
|
| Got me watchin' up on my back and strappin'
|
| Pistol packin'
|
| Who ever thought dem fools would catch on
|
| And we was sellin' rock while up in the back of the broll
|
| See da plan was to make a transaction to match
|
| Three calos, four hundred a zone, a hundred thousand cash
|
| You know da deal, nigga you know da outcome
|
| Dub C and C Mac take tha money 'n run
|
| We gettin' close, hot as fuck
|
| Burnin' up in his drive
|
| Two pace, mirror checkin' doin' sixty-five
|
| I seen the state patrol 5 times, swear to god
|
| He make this stop, better have 9 lives
|
| Nigga beepin
|
| Where you at?
|
| Close nigga
|
| You just have tha cash right so we can ghost, nigga
|
| I never tell no
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| Nigga when I’m comin' through his town
|
| Set us up, get a crew, gun us down
|
| Fuck that, I dun dis shit befo'
|
| After we twist deez niggas, we gon twist some mo'
|
| (CJ Mac)
|
| Out-a-town nigga havin' a pistal in hand
|
| Whatcha paper, you fuckin' wit some jackers, player
|
| Shit happens
|
| Don’t fuck wit a niggas cash
|
| Niggas blast, when it come to cash
|
| Niggas mash, on dat ass
|
| Don’t fuck wit a niggas cash
|
| Niggas mash, on dat ass
|
| Fo' a niggas cash, niggas blast
|
| (T'is da season to be jackin falalalala lalalala)
|
| Made the exchange, it’s strange, they ain’t even check
|
| Switched the suitcase and jet
|
| We ain’t stop to count da cash neither
|
| Shit, nigga, I’mma leave it
|
| Cause two a dem gas cans, was fulla straight ether
|
| Fake twista, took her ass back to da piz-ad
|
| Sent some mo crystals back to da liz-ab
|
| To make some mo trick-climbin'-blatant-nigga loot
|
| Cuz baby need new shoes and daddy need a coupe
|
| Call my nigga, Fred, yo friend
|
| He set up da lick
|
| Gave his ass ten-thousand, thanked him n' shit
|
| Told him 'Shut the fuck up', niggas try to sweat him
|
| And not to take his ass out there, they bound to wet him
|
| Uh huh, two months passed, I found his ass trashed out
|
| Castrated on his porch, with his dick in his mouth
|
| What the fuck? |
| I know these niggas ain’t here in L. A
|
| I went and grabbed the AK n' called my nigga CJ
|
| (What's crackin'?) Look it’s on wit deez niggas (what?)
|
| Hey CJ nigga I just found this nigga Fred fucked up
|
| (slow down, nigga) on the porch (Fred?)
|
| Hey nigga it’s goin' down
|
| Hey nigga meet me at cho bitch spot, nigga (what?)
|
| Fuck that, let’s bring these in hea
|
| Fuck these niggas!
|
| Goin' 110 on da 110, exit slow
|
| Shit my stomach uptight, sumthin' ain’t right (fuck that)
|
| How da fuck they found where Fred stay
|
| They ain’t never been out there, aw Dub, what the fuck?!
|
| CJ, don’t trip, nigga, dey just killed yo bitch
|
| Left her bleedin' in the porch wit' screwdriver’s in her head
|
| Ransacked the house, took the work and the money
|
| I could see that shit, but why the fuck you so bloody?
|
| They took the hundred thousand we stole plus two mo' (right, right)
|
| And if I know that nigga Bo he checked a in mo
|
| Bo, aw nigga, what part of the game
|
| You didn’t know that motherfuckas name!
|
| First you found Fred dead, then you found my bitch wit her wig split
|
| Nigga I ain’t stupid, you did that shit
|
| Motherfucka shot me in my shoulda
|
| Reaches for my strap, and started dumpin' back
|
| Nigga, life’s a bitch and then you die
|
| You only get one chance to check figures, trust no nigga
|
| Shoulda known from the start, ain’t no love in my heart
|
| Fuck this 50−50 shit, this is where we depart
|
| I’ll be damned if I let this nigga walk wit' da dough
|
| Kill my homeboy, kill my ho?
|
| Fire fo' rounds, hit him twice, hit him in his stomach
|
| See me vomit blood
|
| Nigga eat slugs!
|
| On my knees, I’mma see da bust back, fuck that
|
| Somehow I managed, ta raise wit da wicked carriage
|
| Ain’t no rules to dis shit, we jackers
|
| Ain’t no love in this game, mothafucka, shit happens
|
| I feel sorry, nigga
|
| Just like every dog has his day
|
| Every loc get his nights
|
| I’ll be back at ya, my nigga (ain't no thang)
|
| I can’t believe yo ass did some shit like that to me, nigga
|
| It ain’t nothin' (hu, hu)
|
| It ain’t nothin'
|
| It’s goin' down
|
| I’mma get that motherfucker
|
| It’s on! |