Featuring Phats Bossalini, Big Lurch

*(Phats)*

All I know….. is this Regime shit.

Chorus *(Phats, Big Lurch)*

I’m juss a thousandaire
But pretty soon I plan to be a millionaire
Playa hatas best beware!

*(Big Lurch)*

Don’t hate on mine
When you want that sim to shine!
Don’t hate on mine
When you want that sim to shine!

Verse 1 *(Yukmouth)*

Nigga. Let’s do it.
I’m tryin to touch mo’ money than Bill Gates
But know that
When you get the money they will hate
Them broads that hang around you wit the ice grill face
Be the broads that lay you and take you to an ill place
Where the doe at?
They know you ballin, cuz you deal weight
You better show that, nigga where the safe is at while you still safe
Cuz, niggas will take yo life
Probably rape yo wife
If they can’t say China white, now say goodnight!
To the bad guy
In a ski mask guy
I been gettin cash guy
Ever since my dad died
Me and my real boys
In Mazda-has
Bitches wit, cat eyes feed me lobster ya’ll
If I wanna ride I cop it, dawg
If I gotta flip one for my chocolate dawg
Juss like we shop at the mall
Don’t knock it ya’ll
I been ballin since the days of Genesis
And Benz’s flipped
Tinted shit, while you just rentin shit
Pretendin it’s, yours
Drivin Honda Accord’s and Ford Probe’s
Niggas flossin them hoes
My name is known across the globe
See me talkin on shows
Rolex rockin them hoes
Knockin on my door lookin fo yo bitch, I put the glock to your nose.

*(Chorus)* 2x

Verse 2 *(Phats Bossalini)*

Blast the blood clot
My niggas makin money non-stop
Off the rock
Another hundred to cop
Fiends blisterin
All action
We G’s wit Mac-10′s
Co-captian
Boss was sworen as a coppo
Take bread
Live like Macho, push the throttle

Jet black seat pushed back in a Diablo
Die slow
My niggas want it and triffle it
Hummer shit
Cover my mic cuz it’s priceless
Ice this
Rolex piece, watch and Jeep
Niggas lose sleep
Trainin my beasts how to feast
Where the broke eat
Approach yo block wit guns
Cops will come
Spread the bread in lumps son
My nigga John John
He had his head on tight
Hit the pipe
Now he tweaked, high as a kite
I used to shed tears
Knew damn deep he didn’t care
Hope and dreams that was all that’s there to be a millionaire.

*(Chorus)* 2x

Verse 3 *(Phats Bossalini)*

My niggas rock solid
Make the money be the object
Fuck a colleauge
I’m off the clock rockin dollas
See us
Peep us
It’s juss the three of us
Me an Yuk, plus Mad Maxx been out to get some.

Verse 4 *(Yukmouth)*

Feed it up
Soon as I get up
I got to roll a phat spliff up
Smoke til it burn my finger tips an lips up
Drinkin liquor til I get the hic ups
Fuck bad bitches then we switch up
Fuck bad bitches then we switch up.

Verse 5 *(Phats Bossalini)*

Watch me shine in my nine-nine custom design
Niggas sniffin lines sayin Boss committed a crime
I robbed the bomb shelter
Shipped the goods off the delta
Task asks if Phats the man wit no replica.

Verse 6 *(Yukmouth)*

No replica
Put the tech to ya
Smiff-N-Wesson ya
Here’s the lesson to be learned, don’t test the young Hugh Heffener
4 point 6 snatchin up yo bitch
An when it comes to mics I wreck this shit
Collectin chips
Disrespect yo click
I come wit real shit
From the Village Oak-Town
Raised a drug dealer, to be rappin and stars Mo Town
On the low down, I used to blow brown, but now I blow pounds
Went from bein ugly as fuck, to havin hoes now
You know now.

*(Chorus til end)*

Yes, yes, yes, uh!
Balla shit, nigga
Timer shit nigga
(Regime shit baby)
Flossy shit, boi!
(Smoke-A-Lot, Smoke-A-Lot)
Rolex Rulez
Check it, we rock big jew-els an shit, big karats an Baggets an shit.
Mutha fuckas be starrin, niggas packin big thangs too nigga
Uh.

Verse 1

I started off wit heata shit
Carry a nine millameter shit
Rolex on my wrist
Never fuckin wit Geneve shit
(playboy whats Geneve shit?)
Somethin like 20 g’s cheaper shit
Tryin to pawn this shit, but the jewelry store tell you to keep the shit
Look juss like a Rollie, but it really ain’t Rollie
What the fuck you think homie, you walkin around wit fake Rollie
I never knew that swap meets a-wraps could make Rollie
The Motra fake Rollie’s, yo time an date gone break Rollie
The type of shit a theif wont even attempt to take Rollie
Go out on a date, start makin bitches hate Rollie
Now pump yo brakes homie
Only the ballin qualified can rock the platinum, oyster, in distant
Rolex wear outside
“Stayin Alive” like Wyclef, gettin high until my eyes shut
Wise steps, hands carrassin my tech
Rolex under my sleve nigga
To each nigga playa hatin, I make you mutha fuckas bleed quicka
I read niggas
Look in my eyes an die slowly
Meet my four-five
Niggas done died fo a Rollie
I leave yo chest over yo family outside lonely
They died on the stretch an take an ambulance ride homie
My four-five told me, that shit that crucify homies
If I didn’t, got so many down niggas ready to ride fo me
Die fo me
Eye fo an eye homie
That’s what you get for tryin to rob me fo my Rollie nigga
Rolex Rulez.

Chorus *(Phats Bossalini)* 2x

Well an nigga wit the Rolex on
You best believe he packin Stretch Armstrong
Some kinda gat or thang on him
Hit you bullet rain storms
When you got the Rolex watch, piece an chain on
Listen.

Verse 2

To all my real playas
Throw yo Rollie’s in the sky
Wave ‘em side to side
Then keep yo four-five caulked to ride
So many mutha fuckas done died
Tryin to steal a Rolex watch
Especially tryin to steal mines
I remember the day I bought my first watch
The turfs hot
Slangin them birdies, that chirpin juss don’t stop
Raise niggas off the block who turf hop
Juss got my first 5 in the world to check in the jewlery store the first
Spot
I’m wet
Cash the check, grab the tech an jet
10 G’s in my pocket headed straight to Spence
I want my shit all baggets
But it cost too much
Had to fuck wit somethin less
Ain’t tryin to floss too much
A straight gold Presidential
No diamonds down the wrist
Princess cabezel
You know
That’s small timer shit
But fuck that!
I got the Rolex, chain an ring that match
Stack my scratch, until I got enough green to bring shit back
Exchange? Yes!
Give up the chain an gain a Rolex
Drop some G’s
It’s juss like property so invest
An if you ever go broke, don’t feel depressed under stress
Pawn yo shit, I give you what you paid an not a dolla less
That’s big timer shit
White colla shit, so I jet
I see some niggas casin the set
Hangin out by my Lex
I grab the mutha fuckin Tech 9
The first time, I get to hear that mutha fucka scream an whine
Rolex Rulez!

*(chorus)* 2x

Uh, to all my real playas, nigga, uh.
Smoke-A-Lot up in this bitch.
Regime shit, uh.
Sometimes you gotta floss, sometimes keep that shit up under yo sleve.
Haha. Cuz niggas tryin to get us.
But I keep big heats, nigga. Uh.
How many holes you want in yo ass?
BLOW-BLOW!
1, 2, or 3? Nigga what?
BLOW-BLOW!
Back the fuck up nigga. We do our thang, Rolex Rulez.
I sugguest you pack a gat too, my ballin ass potna
Or you will get flatlined.
Done deal.

Featuring DMG

*(DMG)*

Yeah.
Make sure that shit be playin real loud.
(Me and Yuk you know.)

Verse 1 *(DMG)*

Uh
Now once again
Me and my nigga
It’s In My Blood
We straight killas
I be the D and to the M an the M and to the G
Comin from the M-P-L-S, S-T-P
All say it wit me
St. Paulin
Southside niggas
Forever ballin
Lead you to the circle, meet niggas wit purple eyes
Can’t forget my niggas who live on the north side
Could you club what?
G-D’s
Throw up yo fins nigga
It’s all mighty
Now what it is, it’s part two nigga
It’s brand new (brand new)
Juss fo’ you
Now where you from nigga?
I’m from the Mid-West
Who want some nigga?
I leave yo shit wet
Now is it you nigga?
You got the balls?
Well bring it on nigga, I kills ‘em all
I thought you knew nigga
Oh you ain’t hear the first?
It’s In My Blood nigga
But now it’s way worse
It’s In My Blood.

(It’s In My mutha fuckin Blood! Nigga!)

Chorus *(Yukmouth)*

It’s In My Blood
Smokin sweets, drink 40′s to the suds
And fuckin wit these thugs nigga
It’s In My Blood

You wonder why us niggas be hustalas
And out there sellin drugs nigga
It’s In My Blood
That drug money, stuff that shit up under the rug
And make them cops bug nigga
It’s In My Blood
Niggas like me turn niggas like you into hustalas
Fuckin wit thugs, fuckin wit us!

Verse 2 *(Yukmouth)*

Regime life
Shit trife nigga
Slangin China white at night
Get light nigga
2 point 2 pounds of white
My shit tight nigga
What yo grip like?
Ship like a half a million when I’m fuckin wit mics
Bustin on mics
Wit 5 mics to back it
Kick the acrofacts on the cracks while my nigga D flip it backwards
Regime killas nigga
The captain
The king of crack and still rappin, bubble up makin moves
You niggas still jackin
That’s why I’m livin ill, steel packin
Dive on top of niggas and feel like Action Jackson, wit my 9 mill
Blastin
A real assassin, juss invite me to your mansion homie
I bet a nigga’ll come back that same night as a mask man demandin money
Pandamony
See my fam is hungry
Eat a can of phony emcees, then dump they ass in San Antoni
Cuz niggas bologney like Oscar Myers
Mobb attire
Makin cops retire the way I, hurdle over barber wire
Fence this
I pimp shit
Relentless
The Guiness Book World Record holder, for fuckin over the most bitches
Regime shit, the thug preachable
Individual-ly, put niggas faces up on the obituals
I was taught to get the doe
It’s In My Blood since I was crawlin on the rug
And pops was in the kitchen rockin up drugs
Yes sir!
Back then, I knew who I was, a thug
And still a thug until they make me feel the slugs nigga
It’s In My Blood!

*(Chorus)* 2x

Featuring 5th Ward Boyz, Fa Sho

*(Yuk speakin)*

Listen, I bring to you.

(chimes)

Here ye, here ye!
Attention all dope fiends, haha!
This is a Smoke-A-Lot pre-sentation
Check it!
I bring to you…. the 5th Ward mutha fuckin Boyz!
An Smoke-A-Lot himself!

Chorus *(Fa Sho)*

I am a dope fiend an
(the ice cream factory)
I need my drugs
I bought ‘em from the Ice Cream Man
(in ’98, posted up, posted up)
He’s my neighborhood thug
I know I need to stop, but
I say no
(slang crack)
Cuz I’m a dope fiend an…. I need my drugs!

Verse 1 *(Yukmouth)*

Nigga.
First you cut the stove up
450 degrees farienhiet
Mix the bakin soda wit the China white
Sugar delight, Puruvian flake crack rock
Playa fill the pot up wit water, put the pot on the stove to make it hot
Then rock it up
Place the caviar in a jar full of boilin water, then shake it up
That’s how I rock it up
Presice, before I chop it up
I sell it
My dope fiend test the product to see if I got the stuff
Packin gats incase I gots to bust
My cousin rode off in the wind wit two chickens, ever since then no
Nigga I can trust
Plus, family an business don’t click
Cuz family members try to play you like a bitch
I’m quick to pistol whip this shit outta niggas like this
My niggas from the Vill killin each other, go to jail an turn snitch
Like a bitch
Me, I slang double ups, half thangs an zips
Blueprints on how to bubble up, have thangs an grip
Digital triple beam at my lab
Breakin down slabs an bump a zipper
Nigga 28 grams wit the bag
Fuck it
Drop Jag or a Cutlass
My ice cream truck be the toughest.

Chorus *(Fa Sho)*

I am a dope fiend an
I need my drugs
I bought ‘em from the Ice Cream Man
Well, he’s my neighborhood thug
I know I need to stop, but
I say no
Cuz I’m a dope fiend an…. I need my drugs!

Verse 2 *(007of the 5th Ward Boyz)

I scream
You scream
We all scream for ice cream
Trippin out these dope fiends
Bringin back all kinda things
T.V.’s, camcorders, VCR’s, stereos
Beepers, cell phones, any thing they get they hands on
Nigga I don’t want this shit
Bring me back some cash
Even dope fiend bitches try to get it for some ass
Bitch I don’t want no pussy
I don’t want no head
I see they drapped the preist, creepin, violation the police.

Verse 3 *(E-Rock of the 5th Ward Boyz)

See we Mobb figgas
Coke dealas
7-4-7 straight to Oak-Town hit ‘em up wit Yuk now
Yola snatchers
Made money, go-getters
Blood elapse ya
Turn around an pimp slap ya
I’ma make you love me bitch
Wit the cock or the rocks
Stockin up the million dolla spots
Rollin in ah
Candy coated ’98 big body Tahoe
Plenty dope smokers.

*(Chorus)*

Verse 4 *(Lo Life of the 5th Ward Boyz)*

All I need is one bird
An I wont turn back
An I’m show you how to turn this tough, turf-Town white powder to crack
An I keep my clip clacked, so
Please don’t try an jack
In the midst of the transact, I found where the dope fiends at
I over react
After midnite, while sellin my cream
A dope fiends dream is to follow me, while, smokin out a screen
I drive by in my ice cream truck
Wit fiends run up
I got ‘em touchin for the good stuff
White colored and blue
I got yo drugs!

Verse 5 *(Yukmouth)*

I got yo drugs
Heron, infedamines an crack
Fiends get jacked
Fiends get slapped
Fiends that rap
They got me back an fourth
I’m tryin to shake the state
Bakin cakes
Razor blades
Kragen plates
Busta niggas they can hate
Slangin major weight
Thousand grams is a key
Outta town a pound of boogie brown cost a G
So I send it down
Couple a rounds, never lost to P
Never lost a G
Mutha fuckas never crossin me.

*(chorus)* 2x
(echos out)

Verse 1

You niggas juss created a monsta
Fuck a Tampa I smoke ganja
Up in the Bahamas racin Yamaha jet skis
Money launderin like “Casa Blanca”
Luminate the concert
Aimin missile launchers
He’s crazy comet
Mentally disturbed Karma
Wit all drama
I put that on my mama
I’m down to hog tie my playa potna
Don’t make me spray ya potna
If you wanna save yo daughter nigga, give up the info
And throw that plasticy mutha fucka out my limo
Wit three up in his temple
The land where niggas pimp hoes big
I do this for the streets of
San Fransisco on down to South Central
My speech
Too hard on the instrumental will get yo club shot up
Drugs get rocked up
Hustalas settin shop up
Runnin from coppas
And helicopters
Pourin out Vodka
For all my dead potnas
And make me wanna drop my chopper
And salute
Nigga put yo glocks in the air and salute
Nigga shoot
Only my first three times, nigga recoup
Ya’ll niggas be bloops
No, publishin givin the loot
To your executive produce
Sellin bubble Lex coupes
On loot
Beat yo bad bitches in daisy dukes
Poppin they cooch
While my fuckin name is introduced
1,2,-1,2
Clear my throat, check the mic
1,2 -1,2
How many mutha fuckas wanna smoke?
Whatcha want do?
I throw a tree full blunt into the crowd
Snatch a pile of money
Probably a thousand
Throw it in the crowd
Nigga now
Big Poppa style
While I used to be on Section 8
Now it’s shrimp and lobster now
And livin like a Mobbsta now
An niggas who snitched like Sammy “The Bulldog”
A final, or Donny Brasco body found in the barrio
Wit quatro, cinco hallows
Up in Pablo

A Tommyano killa
But never shit across the Mobb though
Keep yo mouth closed
We hold the fuckin code of silence
Juss give me great beats and violins
My flow is violent
Cold as tyrannts
Hearin the po-po sirens
Live an direct, while you slide yo Vet
Niggas think it’s real, but chill, it’s only a cassette
Yes, gangsta shit to the fullest
Hollow tip bullets through yo chest
Had to dismiss a lot of fake niggas
Juss to make scrilla
The industry be tryin to rape niggas
But I’m a straight killa
White as fuck like grade A gorilla
The Mobb niggas used rob niggas fo, Hagan Das nigga
Keep a bribe wit her
Half a chicken up in a ride nigga
Fuck ya’ll niggas
I come stompin to eat ‘em up like Godzilla
Short stoppin my scrilla, nigga my cheddar cheese
Celeberty
Let my nigga Pac rest in peace
Quit fightin
Know that God hate ugly niggas
Quit bitin
So I shoot you in yo face buddy
What you wanna do?
I got crew
Killas from the midwest
To New Jerus, on down to Baton Rouge
Niggas bangin screws
The M-O-U crucifixates
If you’se a trick hate
Go home and ask yo bitch how my dick taste.
(How my dick taste)
Nigga, M-O-U crucifixates
If you’se a trick hate
Ask yo bitch how my dick taste.

*(screaming)*

Oh no!
Oh no!
He’s alive!
Godzilla’s alive!
Godzilla’s alive!
Oh no! You’ve gotta see it!
This is John Jerry, this is John Jerry reporting from channel 4 news!
You gotta see this!
Call the president!
Godzilla’s alive!
Call the president! Tell the president to call the Navy Seals!
He’s here, he’s steppin on shit!
He’s crushing!…..Oh my god!
Godzilla’s alive! Oh you got to see this shit!
Oh!

Featuring Fa Sho

Verse 1

Give me a gangstress
A bitch that don’t take no shit
I need a gangsta bitch
A bitch that’s armed and dangerous
Nigga….

I want a bitch that
Pack a gat up under her mini skirt
A duce-duce up in her, Fendi purse
Dealin wit pleanty work
Shippin birds to any jerk
Get served on any turf
She all about her Benji’s dirt
Up then she skirt
Even though her friends be hurt
Be gorilla lookin broads
Always fightin in the backyard
Must be a bodyguard
She married to the Mobb
Flip a new car every damn year
Cardier
No mo’ O.G.’s than Pam Grier
See around here she’s like the Hedi Fliess
Cuz she run a hoe house, wit a gamblin shack downstairs
Sellin chronic wit brown hairs
I want a hoe to roll my optimos
When I squat the roll, talk to folks on my mob (mobile phone)
Let her chop the doe
Give her ass a glock to hold
Cuz niggas be jockin so tough, they might be plottin so lock they ass up
At the Stop N’ Go
They fuckin wit a Mobbsta hoe
Toss the gat out the door, then come papa so I can wax that ass juss
Like Mop N’ Glo

Chorus *(Yuk, Fa Sho)* 1x

I need a gangstress!
(I need a gangstress!)
A bitch that don’t take no shit!
(A Thugged Out gangsta bitch!)
Give me a Gangsta Bitch!
(Give me a Gangsta Bitch!)
I only fuck wit bad ass chicks!
(Only bad ass chicks!)
(Bad, bad girl, yeahhhhh!)
(I only fuck wit bad, bad girls, yeahhhh!)

Verse 2

Nigga.
I want a bitch that got a mouth full o’ gold teeth
Who like to roll sweets
Smoke trees mo’ than me
Coppin whole piece of bomb ass weed
Hennessy, Shrooms, and Xtacy, the kind I need

Behind I be
Doggstyle, Anaconda in yo baby mama
She don’t fuck wit you little grinders, cuz she already a timer
In designer Anne Klein
Iceberg tights
The white bird life
The type of bitch that been hustlin all her life
I want a bitch that I can call wife
Fuck all night
Lie wit and cry wit
On them hot fall nights
The type of bitch that keep my game tight
Help me ball right
Tell me which niggas in the click is fake
Which niggas is alright
I need a bitch that like to swallow dick
Suck my nut and gargle it
Slap a nigga over the head wit a bottle quick
I need a bitch who like to smoke in public
Drink in public
In a Cutlass only bumpin thug shit!

*(Chorus)* 1x

Verse 3

Uh.
Uh.
The type of bitch that keep a strap under the mat-reese
But I’m so real I make her ass ride in the back seat
Smokin hashish
Fuck bangin Black Street
The hoe that get at me, be the hoe that get her ass beat
Pop up at my telly like magic
Storm in the room, beat the bitch I juss got through fuckin wit a broom
She only fuck wit tycoons
I want a bitch that talk shit
Start shit
Let me rock up yay in her apartment
Everything is our shit
I want a bitch that rock Tim boots
That got her own bubble Benz coupe
Wit friends that’s cute
Blowin smoke out the roof
A bitch that like to shoot the gas
Gucchi bag wit the boots to match
Lick off shots like Super Gat
A bitch that’s stackin mo’, run through yo scratch
Who the mack?
Bitches I quit, still refusin scraps
From them cats that’s hella sweet
Straight buyin ‘em gifts
But she into gangsta shit
An I’m into gangsta chicks!
Nigga!

*(Chorus)* 1x

To be a gangsta bitch (a gangsta bitch)
Everybody gotta know ya
A gangsta bitch, means you don’t take no shit! (til end)

Yes.
Yes.
My lil shortys gonna be a thug.
Father like son, like son like dad.
My family all into makin this cash.
Shorty’s gonna be a thug.
Like father, like son, like son, like dad.
My family’s all into makin this cash.
My lil, shortys gonna be a thug.
Like father, like son, like son, like dad.
My family’s all into makin this cash.

Chorus

Look in yo eyes
An I see, the reflection of me
My little guy
Thank the Lord for blessin me wit a seed
Before he died
My father taught these lessons to me
An before I die, I share the same lessons that he was stressin to me
Nigga it’s in yo blood, you gone be a thug
No matter the cause
Niggas born to floss, an be the boss
That’s how he was taught
I raised you in the North
Away from the hood where, times are hard
But as soon as the, grind get hard
You put yo time in God.

Verse 1

It’s in our blood
Thuggin
Til the days of my death
My last breath taken by the ATF like, David Koresh
My steps of life
My last testimony, God bless my wife
My lil son gone be set for life, always dressed up nice
And smokin Kryponite
Might grow up an rip the mic
Or slang some chickens like his great grandpappy
Whatever makes the man happy
Grands snappy
But Lord forbid, he try to do the same shit that his pappy did
Nigga, end up in some khaki shit
Handcuffed, in back of the bus wit a gang of other niggas fucked up
Then shipped up, shit greed
Shit get deep
Niggas bleed
Information juss to get free
That’s why you never see no busta niggas hangin wit me
Be a loner
If you ain’t got that fuckin Dragon tattoo on ya
Knock a nigga on his ass, so fast the class makes have to use amonia
To wake him up
Nurse, pick him up
An take him up
Hit the dice game in the alley way
Yo nigga break ‘em up.

Chorus *(Yukmouth)*

Look in yo eyes
An I see, a reflection of me
My little guy
Thank the Lord for blessin me wit a seed
Before he died
My father taught these lessons to me
An before I die, I share the same lessons that he was stressin to me
It’s in yo blood, you gone be a thug
No matter the cost
Born to floss, an to be the boss
That’s how he was taught
I raised you in the North
Away from the hood where, times are hard
But as soon as the, grind get hard
You put yo time in God
It’s in our blood.

Verse 2

And send a letter to my killa
Whoever it my be
I know that death is callin, I can hear it pagin me
Chasin me
(ch-ch… haha)
Like Jason be
But ain’t no breakin me
Or takin the safe from me
Not even a fuckin 8 from me
Be ready to catch a thirty-eight to the chest straight from me
Even if they wasted me
My son will be replacin me
On the street makin g’s
Like his poppy was
Smokin chronic budded
Sellin drugs like his poppy does
See his poppy was a, mutha fuckin soldier
Hittin figure eights up in Nova
Always smokin doja
Wit a pocket full of quarters
Went from bein a small timer, to highroller
To the block controller
Set up shop, an got it locked wit all the rocks an powdered cola
Now the cowards know the time
Taught you to grind before your time
I taught you how to hold a 9
Taught you how to stay sharper than a poker prime
Nigga focus yo mind, on the money
Fuck a big behind
An keep a click of down ass niggas, an then you’ll be fine
These are the rules
Nigga choose to utilize or loose
Pay yo dues
If I die juss get my face tattooed
Up on yo shoulder, or right over your heart
Cuz, when it get dark
That’s when this shit starts, an daddy didn’t raise no marks!

*(Chorus)* 3x

Featuring Numskull, Kastro

Chorus *(Phats Bossalini & Val Young)* 2x

That’s the Ballers Feud
A thug changes, and love changes
That’s the Ballers Feud
And best friends become strangers.

Verse 1*(Yukmouth)*

Survey says…
You know some fake mutha fuckas
I know some bustas too
This fake mutha fucka been causin rukus in my crew
Since ’92
At first I thought he was cool like Dru
Always hollerin the Dangerous Crew, but if you only knew
Them niggas don’t wanna hang wit you
Cuz of the thangs you do
Learn a thang or two
Talkin bad bout yo homies, two bitches who juss be framin you
Niggas thinkin bout hangin you, the game is true
Everywhere we go the punk hoo bangin you
Makes it kinda hard for me to swang wit you
That’s why niggas only hang wit Dru, my pimpydoo
Folk-el, smoke out my Range Rove-el
What? What?
Fuck these broke-els
I hate it when niggas be playin wit yo mail, because they only end up
Smoked out
Broke as hell
Drivin buckets
I’m drivin luxury cars and plus shit
Benz the Lexus the roughest to fuck wit
So you wanna be P-I-M-P?
You need to get a bitch to fuck you fo free
You payin G’s fo pussy.

*(Chorus)* 2x

Verse 2 *(Numskull)*

There’s too many playas
Too many ballas
Too many hustlas
Too many killas
Too many pimped out mutha fuckas
So now we got the east coast and the west coast feudin to see who’s
Cleanest
The cleanest mutha fucka is the richest and the genius
What if you stumbles, like buyin too many houses
Wit rims to put on yo shit, too many furry couches
Who the mouses nigga, I think you knowin

Sheadin tears from bitches who take yo shit and keep goin
An don’t come back, cuz they done sucked you dick and yo cabbage
Got 20 hoes across America livin lavish
Hatin is juss a hoe thang, yo, I gotta live like that
A bitch can roll wit me, or hit the track
You can talk about pimpin, you can talk about killin
But when that shit goes down, sound minds will be revealin
When you die and comeback, maybe you can try again and beat me
But don’t try now, cuz you niggas can’t see me
22, ready to hoo ride at moments notice
First to swang, hittin noses, eyes can’t focus
Hocus pocus
Now 25 niggas on ya
Juss because you moved from California
Ballers Feud.

*(Chorus)* 2x

Verse 3 *(Kastro)*

We went from loved ones, on the way up
To no love at all
Time to go though, so I don’t give no fucks at all
Cross the game
Don’t be playin, stoned get right
I shed blood wit this, and that can’t be gone, overnight
This hate
Man, could be a cold mutha fucka
Close friends, close as cat scan, love ‘em like my brother
Now I
See ‘em dyin like a mutha fucka
Slow death, no breath
Man I love it like my mother
And that’s some cold shit, I’m on some mo’ swole shit
Listen quick
Fingers thick
Lady clit
Piss this shit, on yo clit
Niggas know I’m flossin K-Cash
Cash foldin
You want what I’m holdin, my wife an my life stolen
Worse enemy, authority
Police are all enemy
Richeously, this life fo’ me ain’t as bad as it seems to be
But still in all I love, all I love
Take my ten fingers, my ten toes, an mash outta love
Do it fo ya’ll, all ya’ll
My baby girl an God
This crazy world like a knife in the heart of my cause
Now half part of me hard
The other part of me scarred
Death wit out health, but still a nigga prayin to God.

*(Chorus)* 4x