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Verse One: E-40
I'm really not all that sure
Bout when things is finna mature
So let me find me a nigg* with a grip
and hit his as* quick with one of them wh*res
(What's the definition of a lick?)
Taking a s**t
(Hey put that on sumthin)
I put that on The Click, The Click
Back to fkin work one of the homies jus got dusted
Time to do some dirt, UH!, I never trusted
them bustas shot him in the shirt, dead on arrival
Now the town is funky, it's called survival
What y'all wanna do? They got us scuffled
(bullet high, get in your eye) if this was a fifth well I be drunk
I'm heated, them cheated, played me false
We had A MEETIN, s**t 'posed to been squashed
I KNOW THIS ONE b*tch THAT'LL double dribble and set 'EM up y'all
She likes the Monie in the Middle, play tetherball
Thick as* b*tch, high yellow city-slicker
Scarecrow CREVICE Southern girls, aka Posie p*ssyfictious
Verse Two: Spice-1
nigg* been holdin guts, but s**t on hisself and a funky bill
Pullin out bills, frontin on material s**t
that's when I get to killin s**t (killin s**t)
And settin 'im up and havin 'im catchin a couple of slugs
Sl-uh sl-uh slugs, trynta fk with savage thug
Pistol pop in they ass, see be gettin this twisted
It's that b*tch that killed ya
Took all your money peeled ya
Seven bust in the room with AK's
while a nigg* be puttin on his jimmy
All of a sudden they shoot up your Vuitton
before you can hit the broccoli
See money-a-made that nigg*, that nigg* didn't make that money
Left them jacked up, and the b*tch she macked him
He's a busta, punk as* nigg*, y'all know the streets
That's why that nigg* naked layin dead in between some blood sheets
It's just a part of the game he didn't feel
girls will kill, fk a nigg*, out his last d-uh dollar bill
You don't know that hoe main that b*tch can't be trusted
Dusted and di-motherfkin-sgusted
Chorus: E-40
It's some cold hearted s**t
Back to fkin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
Whacha'll wanna do, whacha'll wanna do
Cold hearted girls
Back to fkin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
Whacha'll wanna do, I never trusted them bustas
Some cold hearted s**t
Back to fkin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
I never trusted them bustas
And it's them cold hearted
Back to fkin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
Dusted and disgusted
Verse Three: E-40, 2Pac
Let's let of some 203's on the other side of t-uh-town
Draw the attention on the other s-uh-side of town (other side of town)
And wait for the po-po shift to change, ghetto shootin range
Revenge on the r-uh-rebound, war games
Droughts, OUCH, lost clientele but I will prevail
by sellin the broccoli dank instead of the crack cocaine
try not to steal narcotics
When these punk MC's and girls be the reason why
the smoke be comin up out the chow, with my nigg* Pac
Dear God, can you forgive me? My future's lookin sick
I'm in my rag hittin switches I'm suspicious of this b*tch
I keep on, callin, but ain't nobody pickin up
I think she's stallin, this evil b*tch is tryin ta set me up
Came all alone if it's on then it's on
BUST my motherfkin chrome, ON THESE jealous DOME
It's a war zone (war zone) but I'm a man so with gun in hand
I'm on my way to see this hoe you know the fkin plan
Can't understand, but the things ain't the same
You could die over these girls if you slippin in the game
, but girls too
Give up that good thang, and put that pistol to your brain
If you was smart figure, don't have no love in your heart nigg*
Any complications pull the trigger, dusted and disgusted
girls can't be trusted, you know the rules
They underhanded, she planned it, you fkin fool
(These hoes out here tryin to hold a nigg*'s heart
So a nigg* get his MOTHERfkin
BALLS TO THE WALL)
Hey be proud of it when you turn these girls upside down
What's gonna happen
(Uhh, three and a half dollars or probably fo' if
a b*tch ridin)
(Yeah main, them hoes talented
They be fkin with mo' MC's THAN Jack the Rapper)
(Aight fk it, what you say Mall?
Ay, fk them sheisty as* bootches, nigg*)
Verse Four: Mac Mall, Spice-1, E-40
The California lifestyle that I live
Where the girls is crooked and jus don't give
A flyin fk, so I stay stuck, smokin on the tay-low
Bay Area playa, tryin ta have s**t major
And a b*tch won't save ya
so I ain't playin Captain Save a Hoe
I mob up in ya like a pro and then I'm gone
I'm like Sylvester Stallone, everyday is like a Cliffhanger
Action packed, I let the mini-mac smack that ass
Them hoes jacked that ass
nigg* woulda got smokin on that hash
Can't have my cash, better go and take your nigg* stash
Cuz he's a busta, with clusters
Slippin in s**t, betta jack that nigg* 'fore I jack his as* b*tch
Never was no love for the mark-ass, the lo pink (the lo pink)
You love them Bootsy girls, can't let them p*ssy girls
gank that ass, betta hide your cash and check OR PASS
Pump your brakes nigg*, slow your roll don't go too fast
Cause bulletproof ain't doin no good no mo' no mo' no mo' no mo'
now, comin up dead with they brains blew out on the fkin floor
d*mn, HELLA FORCE TO THE FACE teflons to the vest
Now r-uh-rest
Pull a plug on a flatline NO P-uh-ULSE, one nigg* less
One nigg* less, from coast to coast, to the East to the West
Crushin the flesh, dem girls played a game of death
Look over your shoulder watch your back don't even trust it
I'm tryin to told ya end up dusted
Chorus
