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| 1. |
| 4:47 | 
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Rolling with my motherfucking strap on the side of me
Don't fuck with the East Bay G ..Repeat three more times Buck 'em down with the clip and the trigga Screaming like Eiht yelling come on niggaz Nappy head muthafuckas in a coupe Deville Lightin shit up like Fire Marshal Bill You see I hops on the flo like my nigga Dominoe And get a big fat sack of yay-ay A key or a half a muthafuckin thang Pistol whip a nigga with an AK-ay Peep this lodi dodi I shot up his body Left his ass bloody in the front of the party Yi-a-yi-a-young nigga rollin up out the cut Do a drive-by with the feds on my nuts Niggas be gettin gatted when they step to this Geezy I pulls my motherfucking Uzi And spill his brain *spill his brain* Spill his brain *spill his brain* I Spill his brain in his muthafuckin lap I pulls a jack *pulls a jack* Pulls a jack *pulls a jack* And shoot the heart out his muthafuckin back I come with 187 not with that ho shit So nigga spark up the bomb so we can blow shit ...Repeat intro 2 times Comin up on they ass like Tales of the Crypt then Uz-stang swallow that ass like Lipton *nigga* And now they try to wonder and figure How the fuck Charles Manson turned his self to a nigga Ba-a-blast on they ass with the holes in the barrel Bullets fly in they chest like a muthafuckin sparrow Cause we get like Steven King bodies swing from my ceiling Opens up the chest when it's time for the cap peeling 9-4 hit the do' with a fat gat Comin like this break em down like that The nigga with the plats and the fat crack sack Po pos on my back blow they ass off the map With the 187 mad man killa Spill a nigga guts for the fuck *cause I be* ...Repeat intro 4 times It goes one for the trouble but you don't wanna floss Unless you wanna flex with my bitch Nina Ross Ga-a-gat that ass with the double deuce derringer From the bay area the pall bearer 6 niggas carry ya momma in hysteria Walk up to your mutherfuckin coffin and I stare at cha Cause you're a dead muthafucka black And you never should have fucked with the 187 FAC So nick nack patty whack give a G a gat And put some bullets in that ass crack Yeah break em down with the Mac And like John Madden 93 BOOM he's on his back Spice 1 is a muthafuckin trooper So say what up to the East Bay Freddy Kruger Blow the head off a muthafuckin cow When my gat goes off like a M-1000 Take the hood off your hooptie when I bust a cap Rollin with my muthafuckin strap on the side *peace to my muthafuckin nine ... Repeat intro 8 times |
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| 2. |
| 4:30 |
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(E-40)
Ah fuck it Ah y'all got your nigga E-40 in this motherfucker I buzz I put a step in (G-Nut) Kickin it in the Fac house motherfucker (E-40) Ay, G-Nut, Spice, Xtra-Large (G-Nut) Let em have it (Spice-1) Went out the house I think it was a Sunday Nigga was runnin with drop top drop havin a fun-day Kickin it with my niggas up on the block talkin shit drinkin "Crooked Eye" I got the fat head rush from the chocolate Thai I'm feelin good I wanna kick it and hang out But when the drive-by hit this is the main route What the fuck is my problem nigga? I got a glock seventeen better gobble them So why should I trip, load the clip, put the joint to my lip Get the motherfuckin forty take a real ass nigga hit I'm sittin on my gat thinkin shit is cool Some niggaz roll up in an old school I ain't trippin, ay 慓' you know this nigga's face I heard the motherfuckin bass of a sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump Musty dead bodies and a catty bump, trump Smellin up the neighborhood lyin in the bushes Somebody had mo' mail than the rest of the pushers (E-40) Yeah, I'm just a hustler Yeah, I'm just a hustler Yeah, I'm just a hustler Spice-1, you know some hoes gonna go boy Look here ay look here They got schemes and scandals out there right? When that funk is on this here Check fan, the motherfucker gotta be about As greasy as gravy in order to maintain So society is a motherfucker ain't it? Ay, whatta bout those niggas on your dick nigga? Ice spit some shit about that shit nigga (Spice-1) Get off my dick nigga get your own motherfuckers steady mobbin gaffle the motherfuckers cause my jobbing Shootin up motherfuckers was my hobby Stop the tech-eleven on two-eleven I did a robbery Shot the mothefucker is grenades that I'll be livin Lowin the motherfuckers like a new pair of Levi's and Used to think the cops were so motherfuckin friendly Till they tied my cousin to a chair and broke his chin 慓' My homies motherfuckin head like a melon Slavery is (?????) of convicted felon So dear Mr. Officer of the motherfuckin law Rodney Kind don't need a trial what was seen was what was saw You could take the niggas up out the motherfuckin ghetto But you can't take the ghetto up out the motherfuckin niggas Can't you hear the voice of the niggas comin at cha? Fuck you Mr. President I think I wanna gat ya I need mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the piles (E-40) I can't get enough, good, good Good shit motherfucker good shit I think I'm a little jet drunk motherfuck Ay, look here ay I'm off this Liquorice Rainall boy You understand that don't ya Huh, you feel it Ay, ay look here nigga, ay What I want you to do boy, drop that ill shit (Spice-1) I'll make this gat sing like motherfuckin Mary J. Blige And reminisce on havin a nigga's last breath when he slowly die Stang his ass in the chest with the hollow Capped him in his thr-thr-throat so he can't swallow R-a-rat t-a-tat put a buck in y'all The motherfuckin six-foot chucky dog Comin to play with the trigger of the AK Another real ass nigga from the East Bay ?W-E-L-L-T-E-P-R-O-O-F? For the niggas who kid yourself by losin your fuckin death Bloaw! Bloaw! Cap, we do it just like that Quick to put a motherfucker brains in his lap Smokin up a blunt as I reminisce of bloody body bags a motherfucker going nutty Bloaw! Bloaw! Po' bust a knowledge route Brown, notify his family, fuck it, send his fingers home Cause the shit get major, put the ?Montgomery? number upon his pager Bitch don't fuck with me I know a gang of niggas that will shoot it up with me I need mo' mail than the rest of the pushers (E-40) It's the S-P-I-C-E with ya nigga E-40 (Erick Sermon) Roll in to the curb and die These motherfuckers don't understand this shit boy This shit is so damn real man Ay, nineteen ninety-tre-four-five Ay, I got one of them Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers |
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| 3. |
| 4:58 | 
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| 4. |
| 5:22 |
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| 5. |
| 4:57 |
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(Verse 1):
Now don't you run away from my Glock You can't dodge 17 muthafuckin' shots Could somebody pass me a clip and a trigger Walk across the party pistol whip a nigga Shiiit, I'm comin' up at 'em with the .9's the Glocks and Macs And they'll never breathe again like Toni Braxton Cause I don't see nothing wrooong with a little bummper jack So say "what up?" to the 1-8-7 FAC Nappy head ass muthafuckas wearin' plats Kickin' back like a muthafucka slangin' sacks Ready to peel a nigga cap if they got the nap So if you're funkin' with the FAC Better to stay strapped Cause we'll be comin' up at your back with the black Gat Nigga, and you be feelin' kinda fucked up When your homie drop, it's simple You can't run away from my Glock (Chorus): 2x Doncha runaway From my Nine There's no place to hide I'm gonna get you by and by (Verse 2): Spiggedy One kickin' dat ass with some lay back shit The trigga-happy nigga, I figure Niggas won't wanna step to me If they know I'll be bustin' caps I roll straps niggas take naps Cause I don't be fuckin' around When it comes to bustin' that steel I'm too real, niggas feeel me When I kick this gangsta ass shit that you never heard But fuck what you heard I smokes niggas like Herb Put your ass smooth on ice So nigga don't be 2 proud to beg For your muthafuckin' life Cause Nine Cali'll make 'em stutter Make 'em drop, nigga You can't run away from my Glock (Chorus): 2x (Verse 3): Comin' like the Lench Mobb swingin' on a vine Yellin' out peace to my muthafuckin' Nine Pullin' my cap back ready to serve they ass Givin' a fuck about what the next nigga done up in the past Nigga, I like to let a nigga have a bloody body Don't think I'm bad, no boxin' no karate Just a big fat Gat for them suckas I ain't scared of you muthafuckas Shiiit, and nigga that's how it be "Rollin' with my muthafuckin' strap on the side of me" So don't come at me with that shit 'Bout you gon gaffle me up I cock your cranium like the muthafuckin' Snapple and cut nigga So keep your hand on your pistol grip Bullets whistlin' and shit Feel like a fuckin' missle when you hit And I advice you to stay on alert Cause if you funkin' with my niggas You gon put in some work, nigga (Chorus): 2x (Outro): Yeah nigga You knew you couldn't fuck wid this G Would you wanna step to me Fo, hoe, haha Spiggedy One whippin' on that ass Ant Banks in the muthafuckin' house My nigga Omar That nigga knocked out muthafucka drunk and shit This nigga Jamar lay down the muthafuckin' studio Drunk than muthafucka You know what I'm sayin' But you know one thing Everybody in this muthafucka's strapped You know what I'm sayin' And nobody comin' up short So don't try to run away from my Glock Can't dodge 17 muthafuckin' shots 1-8-7 thousand G |
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| 6. |
| 4:08 |
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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 [Spice 1] 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 [Spice 1] 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 [Spice 1] 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 |
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| 7. |
| 3:18 |
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Verse 1:
My old school homey took a fall His blood hit the mutha fuckin wall Ran to the trunk and got the AK cause the funk was on It felt like Christmas Day I got a present and it come with a banana clip Santa Claus mutha fucka meet the hollow tip But let me get to the trunk so they fucked up Now I? ?out to explode, niggas suckin chrome up Kick down the door and started spraying My nigga on the ground eyes wide open dead layin Busted a nigga in the back rat-a-tat-tat His blood hit the floor first, I heard his back crack Sounds of a mutha fuckin murder the ghetto got me insane to my damn brain Never leavin the house without my glock nine You can? stop crime, so I?a cock mine The other nigga had a baby mack, and he was off the crack He shot and missed and I shot back But we both hit the floor, what the fuck for I caught a bullet up in my chest and I didn? know But the bulletproof vest was on G so I kept buckin at his ass like a donkey And when I tried to run and get out the pig put the glock to my mouth As I was... Chorus: Runnin out da crackhouse out da crackhouse (repeat 3X , 4th = runnin out da mutha fuckin crackhouse) Verse 2: Cop had his finger on the mutha fuckin trigga Screamin some shit about a barbecued nigga I had a pocket full of 慶ane and a bloody gat I went insane when they blasted my cutty mack He was my potna lackin (?????) But I don? think he?l be alive for too much long I dropped the glock with a puzzeled look on my face cuz now I? stuck with the dope and fuckin murder case they threw me in the car and told me they that wanted a cut and if I try to get away a mother fucka stuck excuse me officer but you can suck a nigga dick he looked me in the eye and told his potna get the bitch slobberin at the mouth, mutha fuckin K-9 put it in my face told me not to waste time What? my name? Spice mutha fuckin ace yelled fuck the pig, spit a loogey in his face he let that goddamn K-9 go me and that bitch had it out on the floor it went on for five minutes or less, teeth marks on my mutha fuckin neck and chest he took me down to the county, I? seein?pictures of my niggas on the wall for the bounty I walked in with blood on my pants and niggas lookin at me like a black Charles Manson and I still had dope in my mouth cuz I? fresh out da crackhouse, out da crackhouse |
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| 8. |
| 4:31 |
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| 9. |
| 4:19 |
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(Spice 1)
Yeah, what you lookin at, bwoy? PH balance style (Chorus: Spice 1) Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey (Spice 1) Hit the freeway in a 850 goin about a hundred and forty, sporty Niggas slowin down as if they know me owe me a Chronic session but I keep on mobbin' I got my own Fiendin goin to the zone, rollin up I see a Vega loan Watchin out for the po-po cause the gangsta braise alert the coppers Smokin under them choppers O.G.'s see me and give me propers They say whattup to the Easy Bay Gangsta each and every time As I took my hat and light my Chronic up in the sunshine I gets my mobb on just like all you other players Lookin out for dead Presidents who want that green paper Put out my doobie as I mobb up off the freeway I'm goin side-a-ways, this way, that-a-way I see my partners up in the alley fightin they pit bulls High performance, old schools, with fat dulls Catch me cussin at the cluckers on the street tryin to stop myself from pullin out my heat, I'm mobbin' today (Chorus: Spice 1) Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey (Spice 1) Po-po passin me up, lookin all inside my car it's full of smoke, rollin down my window, they see me choke And spit a loogie out on the street because I'm hella high Rollin around, maddoggin with some Red Eye Talkin slow and show them about which way to go Just hittin corners, tryin to find myself a liquor store Hustlers slangin on the stow-front tryin to make some ends I'm gettin deals on blunts from the Iranians They know my face cause I comin up at them every day For some Hennessy and lemon squeeze a Alazay Then I'm back on the streets drivin through the track See fools fresh out the Penn, killers from way back Hoppin out the hooptie chop it up with real ass O.G. homies Jerk players only, cause ain't no time for fakes or phonies Come catch a glimpse of a real player up in the Bay Gotta get my pay okay, I'm mobbin' today (Chorus: Spice 1) Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey (Interlude: Spice 1) Yeah I've seen up out there player, runnin with a five hundred knowhatI'msayin? 850, guard be, knowI'msayin, somethin proper, somethin fly, say knowhatI'msayin? Get your mobb on you know, youknowhatI'msayin? Or you can sweat these busters with their mean muggin, player hatin youknowI'msayin? That's all they is, get your mobb on man, cause I'm gonna get mine on youknowhatI'msayin?... (Chorus: Spice 1) Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo Mobbin' today, hey Shoobedoop... |
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| 10. |
| 4:52 |
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[ VERSE 1 ]
Smellin stale fresh out the county jail Coppers gave me hell in a cell But now its Mo' Murder to make mail They thought my heart was playin life at a different pitch But I stick to the scrip Dump a snitch in a ditch Its 94 I can't be fuckin around Paranoia of a jack so I'm quick to draw down The only way I gets my mail is to be off in your ass With a AK or a Uzi screamin : Give me your cash nigga So back the fuck on up Cause can't nobody stop this nigga that's sellin the D that's raw and uncut Fuckin over fiends laughin in their face Sellin soap to niggas can die anyday Niggas come short up in them jacks G Another homie eyes wide open dead in my backseat We never thought that they would get him My nigga fought like a soldier we never knew that the bullet hit him Thought to myself was cocaine with my homie's life He picked the crime Do or Die now he pays the price To look of struggle on his face with his Gat in his hand My nigga died With the face of a desperate man [ CHORUS ] 2 X So we can tease his face We can tease his face The face of a desperate man , Gyeah-man Butabyebye butabyebyebang butabyebyebangbo So we can tease his face when him smokin the endo Butabyebye [ VERSE 2 ] Check motherfuckin 1 check 1-2 I gotta gets my mail thats what I gotta do And don't nobody run up on me Cause Franklin and Grant is my only motherfuckin homies I made a deal with the devil and sold my soul Threw up a O.E. at fourteen-years old Young hog ass nigga never ever soft Got me a strap and learned not to shoot my balls off And all the youngsters sneakin pass the bottle Because the G's , pimps and hustlers was the motherfuckin role model And everytime we had a house party Was just a chance for a nigga to see another nigga's dead body And nobody stayed around for sequels Cause the nigga that was bustin was spreadin'em bullets around equal Now they mobbin I'm seein sparks hearin shots Pistol's pop Another motherfucker flop On the asphalt stuck by the foe-foe Flatline ambulance put him in the doe Loud screams from his homies yellin Imma smoke 'em Feelin bad cause his partners on blood choke 'em A touchin scene niggas screamin in the rain Looked in his homeboy's face His homie said his name Now he'd be lookin for that nigga with the Gat and Ready for that Redrum With the face of a desperate man [ CHORUS ] 94 is gettin hostile nigga I gotta watch my shit mug on my face nigga hound-dog mean bitch I'm muggin every nigga that be walkin by Is it true can his hand be quicker than my eye I'm wonderin if I gotta pull out my steel Cause motherfuckers they can feel me they will look at me real So , foe to the motherfuckin foe If I have to let 'em know not to play me like a hoe Cause I sticks to the G code I unloads the clizzip and ease on down the road 1 and 1 Spice only I do my dirt about my motherfuckin lonely ( by myself nigga ) [ CHORUS ] 94 Spiggedy 1 with up on that ass Yeah Mean muggin every nigga that ride by Face of a desperate man nigga I gots to gets mine So if you try to take my shit Quick to bust a cap in that ass 94 Bloooooow Formally like that |
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| 11. |
| 4:19 |
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(Prodeje)
Go on, remember that shit you was kickin off Peace to my motherfuckin nine (Spice-1) Yeah I remember that old shit (Prodeje) So are you gonna kick some of that shit on your new album or what? (Spice-1) Yeah, I'm gonna kick some of that shit But ah, partner I don't even fuck with the nine no more half (Prodeje) Man don't you know the Nina is the shit? (Spice-1) Motherfucker, one E-C-I-P-S is like a murderer P-E-A-C-E to my motherfuckin nine servin ya Cause I don't give a fuck who you are Want an autograph bullet you can call me shootin star, nigga I'm makin the murda shit to kick you in your ass a bit 380 puckin up on that ass come and test me bitch You don't know who the fuck you're steppin to my nigga row I'll bust a cap and leave that ass dead by the do' My chrome is shining like new money and it's kinda funny I keep one bullet up in the chamber (????) sunny Five and a piggy dumb, dumb bullets to his hollow tip Thinkin 187 proof nigga come take a sip I'm sick, as fuck I'll do a drive-by in a black hearse And leave yo in the street for homicide I think 380 burst 187 on an undercover P-I-G They better duck when they see the chrome 3-AD I'm thin as see I'm suicidal I don't give a fuck So if my face wrinkle up everybody duck I rush a nigga bust a bigger hole in his ass Cause hollow tip will fight a booty hoe when I blast The bullet fucked ya when I bucked ya it was instant death 187,000 g motherfucker rest The nigga tried to flip and unload the clip, I did the gangsta shit (Chorus: Spice-1) 380 on that ass bitch B-Blast at 380 (everybody duck) Niggas look crazy B-Blast at 380 (everybody duck) N-Niggas look crazy (Spice-1) Me hit the block with my 3-AD Them niggas ballin lookin kinda shady They owe me money and they better pay me My shit will fuck up ya posse with the S-C-C 380 talkin to me tellin me blow a nigga back So listen closely to the echo of the clap Hit the motherfuckin blocks and my niggas My motherfuckin niggas with they fingers on the triggers So now I gotta smob and P-P-P-POP, POP And buck with that 380 until a motherfucker drop It's in my car boy slammed it on a under-tip I used to kill a motherfucker for his blunted grip I let my cousin use the shit to jack the Dana-Danes A G-T-A with jackin nigga left the bloodstain on the seat of the car he thought I was a star said I was a studio gangsta so I shot his jaw (Chorus: Spice-1) 380 on that ass bitch B-Blast at 380 (everybody duck) Niggas look crazy B-Blast at 380 (everybody duck) N-Niggas look crazy B-Blast at 380 (everybody duck) Niggas look crazy B-Blast at 380 (everybody duck) N-Niggas look crazy (Prodeje) So why you quit fuckin with the nine? (Spice-1) I got love for Nina G but she won't fit in my motherfuckin top (Havikk) Don't you know that nigga Prod and Hav fuck with the nine and the 380? (Havoc) I blow a niggas ass to hell that's why I bust so deep I pack a fuckin 3-8-0 up in my motherfuckin sleep I'll split your skull and mail your brains to your mama fool 380 leavin motherfuckers in a blood pool So chase your skill better yet nigga run and hide I do a nigga on the slide when I hoop ride So nigga smilin eat the shells from the A-T-V Or many yet build the caps down with the faculty (Havikk) I'm ready to kill a nigga, quick I'm ready to kill a nigga 187 ways to heaven when I drill a nigga Then kill a daisy motherfuckers with the pistol grippin They ass is trippin because the Nina gave that ass a whippin The back-street way yard six feet digger Loced out with the nine makin that ass shiver The murders watch quickly smoked up Buck, buck, block, block, bang, boom, boom niggas over (Prodeje) I'll grab your heart and squeeze the motherfucker till it bursts And tie your corpse to the bumper of my homies hearse I pack a nine but yo I'm down to pack a 3-8-0 And pump some motherfuckin slugs up in yo' anus hole So punk ?look up? cause the S-P-I-C-E is strapped And leave your brains pole sating in your fuckin lap (Havikk) The cartel is for the killers the Mobb piece rhymester giggy cap peelers The giddily fuckin faculty the Prodeje the killers be the smokin nigga quicker 380's on that asshole nigga (Chorus: Spice-1) B-Blast at 380 Niggas look crazy (everybody duck) B-Blast at 380 N-Niggas look crazy (everybody duck) B-Blast at 380 N-Niggas look crazy (everybody duck) B-Blast at 380 N-Niggas look crazy (everybody duck) |
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| 12. |
| 4:14 |
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| 13. |
| 5:28 |
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[ intro: roger troutman ]
Spice 1 Too $hort, yup Said I'm a real playa, yeah Real playa Playa Playa... [ verse 1: too $hort ] Whoever try to buy a new benz, spend money on your friends Order up some shit with a pocket full of ends Ain't no sympathy for suckers, bitch, I'm a hustler For the last 12 years I could never get enough of That cash, I keep it in my jeans, bitch Have you ever seen it? a big pile of green shit? When I spend it, bitch, I'm the man I do what I want, suckers do what they can That's why I moved to the a, straight from the bay I'm still mackin bitches everyday, anyway And if you don't like it, I don't give a f**k I'ma still let my top down and turn this shit up Nothin half on my business, keep gettin paid If niggas stick together, maybe we'll live to see the day When everybody keep ballin like me and my folks Let these gold-diggin bitches count my spokes Short dog in the house [ chorus: roger troutman ] Real playaz do what they want to (real playaz) Suckaz do what they can (ha-ha, ha-ha-ha) (what they can do) Real playaz do what they want to (yeah, real playaz) No time for strugglin (real playaz, ha-ha-ha) Real playaz do what they want to (short dog) Suckaz do what they can (yukmouth) (yukmeezy) (thugged out) (fo' sheezy) Real playaz do what they want to Real thugz gon' hustlin [ verse 2: yukmouth ] Hop in the ranger rover, mob, thrustin this out my car Shit better be hard, ghetto celebrity star Smoke 'dro out of jelly jars Boss to be fraud, catch me at the telly with broads Havin menage-? trois, x-ed out on the celly with todd "short dog, what's up? " he told me roger troutman passed I hollered, my shit about to crash Copped a block of hash, an ounce of grass Damn! poppin crystal, poured me a glass Then poured the whole rest of the bottle out on the flo' for yo' ass This's for my nigga roger, the godfather of futuristic funk Here's the ganja, get it crunk Twist the skunk, hit it once And keep that shit movin and Thug niggas do what they want to, and busta niggas do what you're doin I went from rags to riches, bagged bitches, jags and 6's To droppin a solo album that's sellin more than the last shit did I got the streets and ave's addicted ? ? ? swiss accounts, drunk as f**k in the stretch narrow strippers Real playaz do what they want to (real playaz) Suckaz do what they can (real playaz) Real playaz do what they want to (plow!) No time for strugglin (ha-ha-ha-ha, thugged out, fool) Real playaz do what they want to (real playaz) Suckaz do what they can (check it out, nigga) Real playaz do what they want to (plow!) Real thugz gon' hustlin [ verse 3: spice 1 ] I've come from more bounce to the ounce to short dog and roger troutman Yukmouth, we thugged out for the money and all the power Real niggas do what they want to, suckers do what the f**k they can Self-ma-made-mu-muthaf**kin-man Poppin my collar, li-livin the hustler's dream Ballers fiend for cream, pockets bust out the seams Franklin and grant is my dogs, I die for em (die for em) c-cry, lie, ride for em (ride for em) Nigga, I know you heard it through the grapevine I was out here doin it way too live Doin way too much, I'm tryin to touch 40 million bucks And flip a jet with some ? ? ? , about 14 Flop through your hood, bumpin this shit, smokin sticky green Thugs be hustlin, muggin and puttin muscle in No time for strugglin, keep your mind on bubblin You can't see me through websites, but I still got 'computer love' For my nigga roger troutman, cause he was ridin with real thugs Nigga Real playaz do what they want to (immortalized) Suckaz do what they can (real thugs) Real playaz do what they want to (real playaz) No time for strugglin (westside, nigga) Real playaz do what they want to (immortalized) Suckaz do what they can (for life Check it out, nigga) Real playaz do what they want to (plow!) Real thugz gon' hustlin (westside) Real playaz (immortalized) Real playaz Real playaz Baby, baby, baby Ooh yeah Spice 1's a real playa, baby Yeeeaaah You gotta keep on Don't you know Don't you know you better watch yourself You better watch yourself You better watch yourself You know you got to be... Yeah Don't you be trippin in em streets, nigga Don't you be trippin in em streets, nigga Spice 1 gon' tell you how it's really goin' down Yeah Real playa Playa Playa Playa... |
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| 14. |
| 4:32 |
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| 15. |
| 3:39 |
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| 16. |
| 4:39 |
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