Оригинален текст
Yo it's 1992 and Master P is back up in this motherfker
(Yo man lets do this s**t right, man. If everybody plays right, then put yo
right hand over yo heart, and let yo left hand grab yo nut. Now everybody
sing along, b*tch.)
(STOP THE MUSIC!)
We are the world
We are the dealers
We are the ones that sell crack cocaine
So let's start sellin'
There's a fiend in every hood
Dumb fiends that bring they pipes
It's truly nigg* betta then
That's why we dealin'
(C'mon everybody)
We are the world
We are the dealers
We are the ones that sell crack cocaine
So let's start sellin'
(Talking muf*led by loud beats)
Check this out fool
I'm at this party
These two girls lookin' hella pretty
I walk up and kiss 'em each on they fkin' T
I say "Your hole there - it's about to explode"
I took a gat to her as* & she took off her clothes
In other words I be movin' fast like a pick...pocket
See- I'm a mother-fkin' maniac I gotta top it
I talk to the b*tch ... before I kill 'em
I'm like a psycho like Charles Manson - the blood drilla'
I take yo life and take yo arms and cut the girls off
And play a blood mother-fkin' game of golf
And break your arms, your legs I shoulda did it sooner
Reach in yo stomach - pull out a piece o' tuna
I guess you're dead, you're ghost, you gotta go
You untested, cause d*mn they like arrested codes
For a dead b*tch - ya give some good head
Ya must be on yo period - 'cause my d*ck is blood red
I left it in you
I see you face - ya about ta cry
But before ya do make me pull out them eyes...
Make me slap yo mother-fkin' face but don't speak
That big round as* could make some good luncheon meat
In other words you're dead, you got your cap peeled
See I'm a crazy motherfker and that s**t's real
Yo man, whacha think about that
(Man, what you say about that is bulls**t - that s**t ain't real)
Oh, aight, check this out
It's 1993 and Master P is back in this motherfker
Ya know what I'm sayin'
I had to get a lil' stupid 'cause last year some was talkin' s**t
But see, I'm back
Ya know what I'm sayin'
I'm about to get paid
And all them motherfkers that try to stop me
There's gonna be a blood murda
Yo Kent, turn up some of that gangsta-ass music