Spice 1 The Black Bossalini[Aka Dr.Bomb From Da Bay]

1.Tha Thug In Me

Intro：

Yeah, i heard niggaz out here talking major shit you dig
But ain't no motherfucker step to me and said 'spice you a punk'
Cause you know i whup his motherfuckin ass

Chorus：

Niggas be muggin me, don't show no love for me
Don't playa hate me love tha thug in me
Now when i walk on by, niggaz be muggin me
Don't playa hate me love tha thug in me

Now if your hoe come knockin at my door, she
Must want a thug ass nigga for sure
Cause it's the young playa spiz-ice and i be stacking my paper
24 motherfuckin 7, a nigga havin it major
Now we can do this like playas
Or we can hop into some gangsta shit
Niggas be tryin to clown, when your bailin with your bitch
I almost fell, gettin up out the car but see
I had to pistol whip the nigga because he knows who we are
We the niggas with the lex's, rolexes laced up with diamonds
Timer, timer, baller, baller
She fucked with the shot caller now
Didn't need no scrilla to get her, she want a thug nigga
Poppin collars, and at the same time clockin dollars
Real as they come i got soldiers ready to rob at night
And when a nigga goes to your jar you don't attempt to fight
You playa hate daily, talkin the shit on the ace
But you a bitch cause you never talk the shit to my face

Chorus 2x

I put the pedal to the metal and uh jump the chevy
Heavy in the game
But about four five different ghetto names
I can't be tamed i'm a g to my heart
I can't be changed i've been breaking these niggaz down from the
start
I'm hearing shit up in the streets man, niggaz is crazy
I've been serving them dope fiends on that block
Since you was babies
And the world is yours, nigga you can have it all
But if you talk bad on this g ass nigga you'll take a fall,
blaaaow
How many hoes want a nigga that get his ass kicked
Car took, whupped and jacked ain't got no get back
I ain't the type to let no nigga jack me
Baby we cool if they run up on the caddy

Chorus 2x

I'm off the hennessy, when it's me she's callin right back
I'm up in the benzo on the mobile spittin the game off the yack
I'm strapped with two blacks, cuz i ain the baller
Who be out there slippin
She understands niggaz be playa hatin so she ain't trippin
Saggy pants g-braids but nigga still out to get paid
I'm keepin my mind up on my money and all my money is made
Shadetree niggaz be tryin to get in my mix
Conflicts, 40 caliber cliques when i be burying tricks
She seen me knock niggaz out now i do walkbys
Now i put faulty ass niggas between them chalk lines
See everybody be lookin when i be bailin, trailin indo smoke
See it ain't nothing but the smooth sailin
And now i kick back and enjoy my riches on a sunny day
But sucka ass niggaz be all up in my way
You're secure don't you worry bout a thang
I got these two twin glocks and when they cocked this is what
they say

Chorus 2x


2.I'm High

Chorus：i'm high (repeat 6x)

S-p-i-c-e about to hit it and crawl
Pull up the vega make it fat nigga got the crush nasty for a
playa
Purple haze got me hittin the switches and rollin bats up
With some niggaz who don't want to put the gats up
I'm high til i kick the bucket
Fuck it, throw some blunts on my coffin and i'll
Smoke it with the dead niggas
Light it up like the fourth of july
Type of chronic make a dead nigga wake up high
I get tired and ？ pussy
And niggaz know i got to smoke about half ounce, before i flow
It ain't no ？ in my zig-zag, i roll my blunt
There ain't no weed in the studio, we on a hunt
To get the sticky ass green shit, shut em down
You can find a little chron' spot in every town
Nigga sell a twenty ten sacks up on the block
Break the doobies in the ashtray down to roll a chopper
I'm addicted to the thc, gettin fucked up
Leave your doobies around they gettin sucked up
Lungs like a motherfuckin vacuum cleaner
Mobbin on the fine betty's smokin out the beamer
Just call me dr. bomb from the bay
Hit ya in the chest with the chron like an a.k.
Kick back lay back and throw them feet up
Sometimes i wanna roll, a whole fuckin tree up
I break it down, halves and o's
Smoking mold in a broke down sixty-four
And ain't no nigga in the world that can outsmoke me
The muthafuckin chronic addict s-p-i-c-e
Bill clinton hit the chronic and he didn't inhale
But i'm gonna cough a fuckin lung up for niggaz in jail

Chorus 4x

Smokin pot before twelve, ain't no secret to my homies
Step the fuck in your face with the smell of chronic on me
It the c-h-r-o-n-i-c
？ with ？ about a quarter to three
About to loc the fuck up cuz the fed hit the weed zone
And niggaz tryin to sell me backyard homegrown
I need the motherfuckin bomb break down the bail
Roll it up in a fat ass chocolate zail
Mr. endo smoked em all
Which every nigga hit the joint, cough, gag and crawl
Suckin in weed smoke with my nose
Hit the joint ten seconds hold it in for twenty-four
It's puff puff pass
Nigga quit fuckin the weed or i'ma bank on your bitch ass

Chorus 8x


3.Recognize Game

Ice-t intro：
Well alright. spice 1 in the hiddouse
(and short dawgs in the house bitch).
With the l.a. players (soldiers to the game you know？) yeah.
(peep game fool).
Ant banks at the crackhouse
Ha ha ha better recognize game when it's in your face bitch).

Ice-t：
It's obvious mad cash got me gassed
Shark tanks and views millionaire cruise buying cars in twos
'never lose' my motto since birth
Double up knots and crack spots
Snitches lead out by silence gun shots
Map the area i wanted to cut the fuckin' cops a deal
If they don't kneel, they get peeled
Bitches recognize i never have no drama with death
Bustas always try i leavin' 'em gagging spittin' up flem
Take a pen make a mil and if this shit don't sell
I still got the street powder back to flippin' flower
South central nigga what？
The representer, damn your girl seen me comin' and ran
Young enough to be my daughter
My posse use to flip her like a quarter
To state to my man for man slaughter
Caught her in the stairway took her out the fairway
Trunked the punk bitch (that's fair play)

Hook：
You've got the gangstas that i have tangled baby
Bitch recognize game when it's in your face
'well alright ch'all' 'ha ha ha'

Too short：
You think the town rid of short？
You must be crazy, that silly shit you talkin' just don't faze
me
I could make a phone call and just like that
A bunch of niggas from oakland all on your back
I've never been a shot caller just a nigga in a crew
They call me too short but i'm still bigger than you bitch
I been around you can take a turn but don't get burned
I've seen the tables turn
Marks turn into killers rich niggas go broke
Use to be a wanna but now i'm old school short
In the game never had the stacks since age 14
I been spittin' these raps soakin' up the game up
And even when i came up i fucked with same folks
Still did the same stuff
Bitch short dawgs in the house
I know you want my dick cause it's all in your mouth

Hook

Spice 1：
Picture the game as a quarter toss it up in the air (uh ha)
Heads or tails win or lose broke niggas are players (x2)
Say what up to the s.p. crooked i.c.e.
Ra rolling with the strap on the side of me
Potna don't get it twisted up i got hollow tips extended clips
Major chips lookin' at eclipse jacussi dips
Niggas step back i don't know you
Don't get to close to me
Some niggas ain't really the motherfucker they suppose to be
Cloud killers don't aim until you shoot in the air
Better put it down and brake some hoes off like a true player
Phoney as three dollar bills niggas ain't recognizin'
Fell in the relapse besides i'm a trauma a nigga
Look in the eyes and when you see me i be hardcore
What the fuck a real nigga gotta lie to kick it for？
I'm tired of these bubblegum ass niggas
Throwin' monkey wrenches into the game
And all the players and pimps feel my pain
Hustlers maintainin' riches and keepin' presidentals
Not artfical with fishin' niggas know i'm packin' missles
Get me two bentleys some houses johnson jet skis
Ballin' till i die nigga don't fuck with s.p.i.

Hook


4.Playa Man

Chorus：spice 1

Can you love a playa man
Can you love a playa man
Can you love a playa man baby
Can you really love a playa man

I twirl the wheel of my caddy with my middle finger
Bellin' up out the hooptie mobbin' with my pants sagin'
I smokin' on some of that crush nasty with a g limp
It's the born to die the s-p-i
Playa status since an og since lee high
Sportin' a g hat with the short brim
Mr. giggity-gangsta hustler baller
Whatever you wanna calla
Straight playa up in this game
Puttin it down for all ya haters
Killin' m softly raisin' m off me
Keepin' it real so they can't fade me
Up in the 9-sick
I kick back and roll a vega up
Rollin with the hennesy
Champaign and remmy up in my cup
Livin' like a baller but i'm still a g
Soakin up game in the east bay street
Stackin that fetti s-p-i-c-e

Chorus

The game is deeper than atlantis
So homie don't go in the water without your harpoon
You swimmin' at your own risk
Cuz in the bay ain't no parana
But you can get your body ate up
When you get to flossin up in that lexus potna
Look what the tied washed in
That's what the people say
Spiggity one straight og up out the dirty bay
Straight out the water
Finna wet you up and leave your body soaked with some of that
redrum
So come on, come one and come on dem all
And watch them bodies fall
S-p-i-c-e comin' with that hard to kill a blow!
Smile in your face all the while they wanna take your place
I was strapped with a gun case
But now i'm back out on the paper chase
Spittin' m game
And i'm usin' my mouth piece like ron o'neil
The g from back in the day
They always say i spit the real
Keepin' these haters out of my pockets
And always watchin' my spine
The role of a playa is force and still looks out for mine

Chorus

S-p-i-c-e be stackin fetti fetti
See i be stackin' ballin'
Since way way back in the day
The bay area
My play area
Ain't no crips or bloods
But if you cross game then i'm gone carry ya
Up out the gangsta party quicker than you can think
Rolexes upon the wrist and diamonds on the pinky playa
Poppin' the cork on champaign
Hundred dollars a bottle
We roll in benzes and coups as if we won lotto
Don't let me hear you talk bad about a playa name
Cuz if you get your scratch on haters gone do the same

Chorus


5.Caught Up In My Gunplay


6.Ballin

Chorus：
I'll be a baller 'til i die
I'll be ballin' to my grave nigga, i die a paid nigga
I'll be a baller 'til i die
I'll be ballin' to my grave nigga, i die a paid nigga
I'll be a baller 'til i die
I'll be ballin' to my grave nigga, i die a paid nigga
I'll be a baller 'til i die
I'll be ballin' to my grave nigga, i die a paid nigga

Spice 1：
Some niggas be all up in my shit, you need to quit
Sprinkle a motherfucker that will leave you split
Tore back ass out bringing you your hat
Flat broke, talking about fuck that nigga s-p-i
But you can't go one on one spice 1 because i'm born
To die
I gets even up on they ass like punk bitches in ditches
The gangsterism resulting in murderism
Bailing up in your hooptie at the gas station
You facing the killer for real-a punk ass nigga
Where the scrilla
Jacking you for your shit, taking your ends pull off
My mask
Hitting the corner, hopping up in my benz with your
Cash
Mobbing i mash out, you ass out
Left you shot up in your seven-trey glasshouse
Because you don't know me like you think you do, i'm
Down for thefetty
Ready to die for them presidents, high powered and
Deadly
I ask to ball or not to ball, partner answer the
Question
I meet a nigga running up on my hooptie with smith
And wesson

Chorus

Yukmouth：
One time for your mind
Here to represent the pimps, playas, hustlas, ballers
All my niggas on the grind, packing nine millimeters
Nine lives like cheetahs, but your still in ？？？
Drug dealers peep the shit that i kick
Hustling, busting down zips making chips
If we ain't making it we taking shit
To the extreme hit the scenery with machine
Gun, get the creamery and ice cream, nobody scream
Nobody run, i come like point blank
Mobbing the motherfucking bank, looking like benjamin
Frank and itake
So many penitentiary chances, to make
Scrilla scratch niggas must have more stack in the safe
I mean ？？？, nigga your safe is my safe
And i'm gonna make sure that my safe ain't your safe
By putting a .38 up in your face
For running up in my place and shake the spot
And not expect to get your ass shot
Yeah, another one bites the dust, the shyster busts
Caps at your house
Matter fact, niggas don't like the yukmouth
About to l-u, didn't they tell you
I'm a youngster trying to have something like my
Nigga l-q
Ballin'

Chorus

Spice 1：
It's the motherfucking east bay g with the hundred
Clipper, savage thugnigga
See i was born with the lust for money, chrome plated
Triggers
Mob style haulering 187 up in your face
Put a gauge between your throat and tell you that
Your out of place
Motherfuckers don't be knowing we vicious and vicious
To get the cheese
More tickets to g's, cruises overseas
Can't be no punk about the shit that we're in
Got to be a soldier to the game or nigga you'll never
Get your dividends
Balling til i die, until i die i'll be a baller
Let my riders do the dirt and i'll be the shotcaller
Whatever i got to do for the lifestyle that'll pay
Them forever
Never slip stay on my toes nigga walk with the yellow
Stripe
But pull me back, because they cowards and shit
I be the nigga that take your drama and put a twist
In your the shit
Caps get slapped with steel, hot slugs will be your
Meal
Fucking around with my money is just going to get
Your ass killed

Interlude


7.The Boss Mobster

Blaaw!

Verse 1：
Nigga who you think you fuckin' with？
You ain't no killer i put slugs in niggas opposite leg to get my
skrilla
Does a blackflip pull out my gat and blow your ass
Twenty paces nine millimeter slugs up in they faces
Ain't no nigga living alive that could vibe
And have me caught up in some bullshit i eat your ass up with
the full clip
The giggidy giggidy giggidy gangster from the eastside of the
bay
Ballin' outta the hooptie with the 50 clip a.k. blaaw!
Niggas don't wanna fuck with me
Infared was up in your eye when you rolled up to me
I have one bullet up in the chamber ready to put your ass to
rest
You was strapped with a bullet proff vest and it still went
through your chest

You fail to realize the size you fuckin' with a killer
Boss mobster known to be effective figure (x5)

Hook：
Don't cry when me bleed ya, lr nigga don't let me break you down
(x3)

Verse 2：
Don't be fuckin' with my emotions playa
Cause a nigga will cut your balls off and feed 'em to you
I'd love to do you with this big ass tech to get motherfuckin'
respect
Woo-ha put your ass in check
Leavin' you hoppin' down the street with half your ass hangin'
up off your
Back
So hold your motherfuckin' nutsack i'm off the yack nigga
Put your dead homey up in my seat
Open up the door and throw his ass out on the concrete
See you can't fuck with a killer though
You catch me bailin' parlayin' but i have to blast at you nigga
though
Keep it on your ass on the slundin' with the beenie
Keepin' you motherfuckers two dollars short of a martinee
I'm a straight soldier motherfuckin' player shotcaller boss
baller
Poppin' muy fuckin' collar hopin' you niggas is feelin' me cause
i'm born
To die
Catch me runnin' in handcuff don't ask me why

Hook：

Verse 3：
Circular game for murderers coke dealers and deez
Gotta get my uzi for niggas that got that love for me
Gotta pay my dues in this shit can't get the game for free
So at the age of 14 a motherfucker was slangin' d
And i've been gang related ever since i came out the womb of my
mama
Readly for the motherfuckin' drama
Seen this cherokee they start shootin' this bike
Will see i hopped out of the hooptie to take they motherfuckin'
life
Got to bustin' apon they ass with the 4-4 watchin' 'em flee
Harder to kill than your average motherfuckin' g
Suprise niggas i got you cocked up in sight
And im hopin' i got your punk ass won't be makin' home tonight
You cryin' homie that on the reala nigga you fail to realize the
size
You fuckin' with a killer

Hook


8.510, 213

Hook：
5-1-0 and 2-1-3 is you a baller or a g？

Spice 1 intro：
Ha ha ha. to thug or not to thug？ to g or not to g？ see that's
the
Question. everytime i hit l.a. i get love you know cause i'm
from the bay.
Dub c, big syke you know spice 1. feel me.

Spice 1：
Count the dollars on the lexy don't waste your time
Let it shine let it shine let it shine
Mizzolas and 850 flossin' i'm tossin'
Doobies up out the window smokin' often coughin'
Chokin' hard up off the indo smoke
My mens with extra clips hennessy lemon squeeze begin to dip on
me
The g with the strap up on my side
Keepin' these haters apon they toes cause they know i'm ready to
ride
Hide but you can't get away
This is your dead homie you should of put your tool away
But you still pull it on me, see i ain't trippin'
I got foot soldiers that do dirt for me
Love me enough to hurt for me and do some work for me
Black roses is sent to the families with all the lives lost
Kill 'em soft pay off my henchmen like a mob boss
Mobster ballin' out the hooptie
Who could it be？ s.p.i.c.e.

Hook

Big syke：
Sound like baller i'm caught up in troubled times
Destiny knows help me free my mind
What can i do but stay true and be a man
I'm just doin' what i can
Migrate to oakland lay low with my dog spice
Hang out with killers and dodge device
Gotta pay the price took a life or maybe two (was it two？)
I wouldn't of done it if i didn't have to
In the wrong place at the right time evil minds learkin'
Thought i was over peerkin' searchin' for a home i feel alone
On these cold streets, sleepin' on couches with no sheets
God guide me hide me from incarceration and start this
despiration
I'm facin' more time then i really got to give
Damn i wanna live in 2-1-3

Hook

Wc：
It's the dub s.c. on g parolee
And although deez steadily grinding for cheese
Trunk fulla keys on my way o.t. from 5-1-0 to the 2-1-3
I puts it down bendin' the corner with my all blue chevy
My mind on gettin' the fetti, my heater cocked back and ready
With g's crime related, affilated eyes faded
Big bodies paper plated stayin' shaded for federated
My crews full of nothin' but riders high off the remy
Chuck taylors neck pieces and knitted beenies (uh ha)
Mashin' on the regular hustlin' day and night
Went from chronic to water but now we pushin' the china white
Much loved by many but now by many hated
Trippin' off the the haters lookin' mad cause we made it
But don't get mad at me because i executed the game
I got my hustle on loc you can do the same

Hook


9.Kill Street Blues

Chorus：
Cookin' up yae in the pure form of a rock
This is how we clock, stroll up on my block
3 in the morning po-po at my door
I'm wonderin' if really po-po at my door
This is kill street blues
(alternate 3 ＆ 4)repeat 4x

Verse 1：
Sit your 5 dollar ass down
Nigga 'fore a chief baller make change
Cookin' up yae-yo at 3 in the mornin'
Choppin' up game sackin' up caine
Fetty was layin' all over the floor
I guess you cold say that i was slippin'
As the door kick in
I stick in my clip and begin the dippin'
Up on these so called po-po
But i know it can't be nuthin' but some niggas
Runnin' up in ski masks
So i continue to curse and blast that asses out
Tryin' to gaffle the scratch my gat consumes
Just then my killa partner steps outta the bathroom
Uzi's and mack thangs start lettin' off
Niggas catchin' slugs to the face
Baking soda some niggas brains cocaine all over the place
Took a dive behind the coach
Heard a nigga say 'we gonn' kill you'
My 2 twin gats start talkin' to me said 'fuck them niggas i feel
you'
So i bail up outta the cut
Tryin' ta take lives with no remorse
Lookin' like a scene with laurence fishborne in 'the king of new
york'
Now it's 3 o'clock in the morning
And i still don't snooze
'cause through my life niggas be given me all these kill street
blues

Chorus：

Verse 2：
1 nigga died high
Face down in uncut yae
I stuck my finger up in the hole in his body, told him have a
nice day
My homie said 'the real feds is comin''
Said he was hit
I pull the bloody corpse off his body, he told me get the shit
Ran to the kitchen
Hopin' over the deceased
Gotta get the rocks money and powder, and evade the police
Put the fetty up in my hand
Gotta be quick, gotta be nimble
Look to my left seen 3 federalles' cars in the window
Now it's time for me and my homie
To mob the fuck on out
As we mob up outta there 3 federalles mob in the house
Can't say nuthin' about them other niggas
Them haters is out there dead
Couple a slugs up in they head, with a house full of feds
And ain't no time to be stickin' around
I'm hearin' them ambulances and homocides
I'm ready to bail outta the scene and flee up in this 'g' ride
I'm thinkin' my homie heart stopped nigga dyin' on me
Partner dropped down to the ground
That's when them po-po started firing on me

Chorus：

Threw the caine down got to mobbin' off
As the po-po yelled out freeze (freeze)
Lost a down ass homie and the yae-yo man
But fuck it i'ma keep the cheese (cheese)
My partners eyes wide open
Nigga layin' there one breath too short (short)
But each time ya nigga spice 1 hit the corner
In a big white cloud of smoke (smoke)
Federalles on my bumper baby
Fittin' ta show 'em i ain't no punk (punk)
Use the right hand to do the drivin' thang
And the left hand ready to dump (dump)
Led 'em on a high speed chase
For about 30 minutes or a little bit more
Got a triple thang murder up under my belt
'bout 60 thousand ta doe (doe)
Ohhh nooo
Heard a slg hit my back tire
Then i spun around
Runnin' into the side while tearin' all shit down
Bitches was screamin' niggas was cussin'
Po-po bustin' at me (punk ass nigga)
Run into the liquor store
Knowin' they'll never catch me
But soon as i'm thinkin' of makin' my getaway
Ain't this a bitch
Some fedy with a 12 gauge
Put the barrel fight up to my shit (stay right there nigger)
Pull out the money and all of a sudden i hit the floor
Looked up and see the barrel of sgt. kickass' 4-4

Chorus： 2x


10.Fetty Chico And The Mack

Intro：mack 10

Blaaaow blam 187
Straight murder display from la to the bay
Westside, my nigga spice 1 aka fetty chico
And i'll be mack 10 aka mack manson
What up spice

Spice 1：

We serving chickens you damn sure can't get at roscoe's
If you don't want to see no murder then keep your eyes closed
Nigga shake the dice up, roll 'em if it's one or ten
They won't be able to put your ass together again
Leave you in reece's pieces, rolling in white cornices
Knocking out teethes, i know where we can get the blackheads
cheapest
From my homie down the street on the block
He copping everything from desert eagles down to them
mini-glocks
If niggas fuck off the money we raise the murder stats
Me and my nigga mack 10 committing terrorist acts
You see us bailing don't mumble under your breath
Have the heart to say fuck you so i can put five in your chest
nigga
Don't be no punk, i put my uzi where my mouth is
Yay under couches running out of crack houses
We down and dirty for the birdy thirty-five a sack
Nigga give up the stack it's fetty chico and the mack

Chorus：

Fetty chico and the mack
(murder murder) ma-a-mack 10 shooter, kill a man looter
Fetty chico and the mack
(murder murder) open up your mouth, say ahh, get
Ready for theblaaoow
Fetty chico and the mack
(murder murder) ma-a-mack 10 shooter, kill a man looter
Fetty chico and the mack
(murder murder) open up your mouth, say ahh, get
Ready for theblaaoow

Mack 10：

I'm in a murderous mindstate
I'm on so much dope and coke i can't even do my line straight
I smoke that ？？？ that shit put me in a trance
And since my last lp they start calling me mack manson
Now when i come around punks know they're gone
？？？ my pistol around and fall straight into a coma
So take if you want it that's my number one motto
Hitting licks like the lotto, with a four-five bottle
And assault rifles like rambo full of ammo
Dump a nigga in his chest and watch him bleed through his flesh
？？？...... chicken hawking
You kill a nigga, you kill his bitch so she can't talk
So i smoked the bitch and made it simple
I put one in her temple and got horny as a nympho
So with a hard dick and guns, a bad bitch dies
I take my two fingers and then i slowly close her eyes

Chorus

Capping him in his b-brain, with the m-mack t-ten
That's my p-partner we d-d-doing him in
L-l-leave him in the t-trunk
'til his c-crazy kid kicks one in the ch-chamber off
The s-safety
I g-got 'em g-got 'em four extra c-clips
Infra-red b-beam h-hollow tips
D-dirty l-licks m-midnight
M-mack w-one o and l-laser sights
R-rollin b-blunts smoking to the doobie
In my h-hooptie with my uzi t-talking to me
Telling me thought another lick we can go pull off
He told me keep your mask on don't take your hood off
So me bail into burger king and me pistol whip the guard
Everybody up on the floor nobody try to make it hard
Another guard was hiding he jumped out and bust at me
So i let him count the bullets in my c-l-i-p
Me hear them sirens ringing and me take off with the stack
Bailing without the stretch it's fetty chico and the mack
187-187-187-187-blaaaow

Chorus

(murder murder)
Murder murder and kill kill kill
World wide westside


11.Wanna Be A G

(chorus)：2x
So you wanna be a playa
So you wanna be a g
So you wanna be a gangsta (2nd time：player)
But you don't wanna fuck with me

(verse 1)：
Diamonds up on the pinky rolexes up on the wrist
Take a good look at this old pimpin' ass
Nigga you ain't never seen a mack like this
It's the thug in me
Niggas be walkin' round muggin' me ruggin' me
Tell your bitch to give me my dick back
She pullin' me and tuggin' me
Can't be fuckin' round with you cluckhead bitches
Don't need no fixin' rubbers
Just like my timin' ass partner (e-)40 say
Punk bitch y'all burn rubber
If that bitch can't swim then nigga she bound to drown
What's up with you old ratched mouth ass bitches
Tryna talk down on me and the town
You bitches better recognize this is 187 proofer
Mobbin' out the cut with a fat a.k. and a black on black lex
luther
Ain't no ？？ up in this ？？ just shut em down crush nasty
Right now i'm kickin' this pimp shit but you ho's know i'm the
last g
In sticky situations will have bust with no hesitation
You punk ass niggas don't know my background
You just stuck on that player hation
Why a nigga wanna talk bad on a timer who been down from the get
go
I can smoke a blunt up in my hot tub don't be trippin' off that
old shit though

(chorus)： 2x

(verse 2)：
You niggas ain't never seen me in person tryna assassinate my
character
Talkin' bout spice ain't got no paper
Bitch i'm a nightmare livin' in america
Ain't no paperbag ass nigga hoe i done been through some shit
Niggas walkin' round out here i wanna kill
Wanna kill me too that's real
Punk ass niggas they know who they is runnin' round talkin' shit
Oh, fuck that punk ass nigga
Spice 1 he ain't nothin but a bitch
But one of these days
I'ma have your ass chopped up in the back of my benzo
Mobbin' to this old gangsta shit right here smokin' on some of
that indo
Too many fuck you bitches up in the game niggas be puttin' too
much on it
Born and bred to be a thug ass nigga
2 fingers on 2 twin glock triggers
I know the game ain't got no rules and they got been laced
Damn, if so many muthafuckas didn't know my face
I would've been offin' you playa hatin' ass niggas a long time
ago
Would've seen you filled up with slugs would've seen you dyin'
real slow
But you know what i ain't trippin' off that old shit
Cause y'all niggas ain't worth my riches
Go head and sit around and chatter my name out
I lace more punk ass bitches

(chorus)： 2x


12.Diamonds


13.Down Payment On Heaven


14.2 Hands And A Razor

Yeah well check game you know what i'm sayin
Muthafucka step outside you know what i'm sayin
Then get my muthafuckin chronic sack, know what i'm sayin
Turn around, motherfucker sheriff
Motherfucker got his hand in my goddamn back pocket and shit
Handcuffed a nigga
Threw him on the backseat, search a nigga car
Find his goddamn strap, now i'm up in this motherfucker
Straight caught up, fuck it though, you know

Soon as a nigga steps up in the county
I see killaz goin to the row
It was a riot kickin off early up in the dorm next door
I'm up in the 9500 where the shankin is on
If you up in the la county, nigga you feelin me strong
It's a million penitentary one og said
Secerity guard fast tapped a shank up under our bed
And bust them headz with a flashlight at 3 in the morning
Waken your ass up with a blew, nigga put you blues on
And get the fuck up out the bunk we gonna go for a walk
Police got a code of silence, see none of them talk
About the shit that be goin on up in the county jail
5 guards handcuffed a nigga beat him to death in his cell
See 3 days is like a month, 3 months is like a year
Cause you can get your throat slit from ear to ear
I wish somebody would help me out in the situation i'm in
But there ain't no luv up in the county
Cause your foe's got to be your friend...

If the guard want to come and find mine
2 hands and a razor blade
Then the officer gonna have to get my
2 hands off the razor blade
When i wake up in the morning and see it again
Then someones gonna have to end up d.d.dead
And if your friend got soaked then he a d.d.dead.

Yeah you know what i'm sayin a dead motherfucker
Barely up in there, they try to slide around all over the place
Like a little bitch or something
They try to get him to calm down, but anyway it goes like this
They tell a nigga strip down to naked and shit
In the shower with thirty motherfuckers
But there's only ten in the shower
Then they tear off somebodies draws and be like
Awww too big too small, that shit ain't cool mayn

Verse 2

Murder, it's just a part of the game, you get you jugular opened
Up if you say the say the wrong niggaz name, i hear the guard
screamin
Shut the fuck up, and as i look to my right side i see
Niggaz gettin cut, shanked, stabbed, wounded, sliced
Watch your adam's apple when the guards hit the lights
But the real niggaz luv me, though i'm 1990-sick
Plus i'm not the type of nigga that won't swole up quick
So past me the potatoes nigga, i don't mean to be rude
But if you starve for a minute you gonna fuck with this fool
Up in the county jail, niggaz be startin them riots
And if you see some of murder, shut you mouth and be quiet
If you are hard keep your shank nigga, there ain't no tellin
When the mafia bailin up in the cells where the niggaz dwellin
Only the strong survive, i ain't no motherfuckin cat
I ain't got nine lives, so bring it on motherfucker
I'm tellin him to bring it on in my cell
Get my yokes on all night long
Bustin lyrics with my killa partners they so sick
Sittin around all night spittin bout g shit
Said he had three keys the motherfuckers call him fiends
Now he's stuck up in the county with some niggaz like these
Ain't no muthafuckin luv up in the county jail
Picture you life a livin hell if you slangin yea...

Chorus with news reporter

If the guard want to come and find mine
2 hands and a razor blade
Then the officer gonna have to get my
2 hands off the razor blade
When i wake up in the morning and see it again
Then someones gonna have to end up d.d.dead
And if your friend got soaked then he a d.d.dead.

News reporter

How a small law inforcement budget can't even put a dent
On an estimated 100 billion dollars of weed in this business

Verse 3

Keep your hands in your pockets and your shoulders to the wall
Keep your hands in your pockets and your shoulders to the wall
Keep your hands in your pockets and your shoulders to the wall
And if you don't walk straight, then they gonna have to beat you
Until you have to crawl, this ain't no bullshit
You gonna mind somebody, niggaz comin up in here
Thinkin that they bought it like they john gotti
And still get the fuck broke off
Take the hardest muthafucka and turn him into something soft
I keep a shank up in my sandwich, so i can do damage
To motherfuckers who wanna test my nuts and handle this
Looked at my cellmate he threw up his set
But trigger guy so hard died with a tattoo on his chest
So know this gangsta shit is poppin, the guards is comin
Motherfuckers is runnin, i hear the po-po gunnin
While the bullets is screamin, i hear get the fuck on the floor
Niggaz holler man damn it's the murder show
So get you muthafuckin shank and nigga beware
Of the sh sh sheriff cause he's out there...

Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa the 187, the 187, the 187, the 187
The 187, the 187, the 187, the 187, the 187, the 187
The 187, the 187, the 187, the 187, the 187, the 187
The 187, the 187, the 187, the 187, the 187, the 187
The 187, the 18blaaaaaaaaaaaaa