| Disc 1 | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. |
| 0:49 | 
|
|||
|
(The Paper Route "INTRO")
Mack 10 the nigga, He's a strait up motha fuckin G, Runnin through the hood up to no good, flossing in his cheese(*repeat*) |
||||||
| 2. |
| 5:13 |
|
|||
|
Intro
You can hear it bumpin' through the door, There's a party jumpin' on the floor, And the way it soundin' there is no doubt, That the west coast is in yo' moooouuuttthh. Verse 1: It's all gravy, petty cash never phase me So pull me a shot of 'gnac & purple haze me I'm a hustler, gettin' cash like crazy Pork rind pays me work that youll never get cuz your lazy Glock hugga, the hood raised me (Inglewood!) And she wont be happy till she lays me No! you never seem to amaze me So the cheap shot you took at me never even grazed me My names walkin like a street king Cuz I mixed the hoo-bang thing with the bling-bling A whole lot of haters out there I see But I flip em all of and keep doin' my thing I'm a floss about it with my Inglewood swing Rocked out from my ear down to my pinky ring Now ding-ding let the bell ring and if its drama you want then it drama I bring sing Chorus Verse 2:You know this cash is just small potatoes No names, cuz this is addressed to all the haters From the wood there is none greater Mack the headlinin' and y'all just spectators Remember the "Fo' Life?" i put the 'wood in it And looked out for you when your own hood didn't And plus you forgot who was payin' yo bills Introduced you to the game and gave you a deal For me y'all be piddly rhymin You got the hustle game backwards and nickle and dimin' Both hip-hop classics, I make 'em and got 'em And yo' group ain't been heard of past the bottles I play with 'em on my turf and mingle with my g's And i got one word to say What Please? Chicken walk, y'all ain't nothin but a feather in my wing And all this hatin' mean I'm doin my thing sing Chorus Hoo-bang, hoo-ride, all day, all night On Dubs, up high, Westside, fo life Hoo-bang, hoo-ride, all day, all night On Dubs, up high, Westside, fo life Verse 3 Now tell me, is it the duece-1's on the Bentley The lowriders that matchin' is that why you resent me? That smile on yo face, and act so friendly Walk away with hate and a heart full of envy Say Bro? What kind of the game is that? You got ways of a dame and how lame is that? Act like a groupie around strange cats And its strange, you don't have any shame in that I got yo car playboy and I ain't trippin' You know me, just roll with the punches and keep it pimpin' Get through by punches, no name and tippin' Let it ride on the Harley, and '64 dippin' Stay real about my screel if you know what I mean I'm like a leprechaun, I want nothin' but green Avoid the haters, and before the party sing Cop the rock from the D R and make the hood dream sing Chorus x2 Mack 1 0 hoo-bangin fo life And i don't quit Take a picture trick Yeah, Take a picture trick It might make you rich Westside Riders! Baby! Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh.... |
||||||
| 3. |
| 4:54 |
|
|||
|
Squed up, squed up, fuck that nigga at the do' Squed up, squed up, fuck that nigga at the back Squed up, squed up, fuck y'all {Lil' Wayne} Listen Now when we slide up in the club, we come in and do thangs About every car that you name, on twenty-two thangs We likely to have a few drinks, beat up a few lanes Spittin game at a cute thang, make her get a crew brain All the Heinekens in mo' if it ain't dro we don't want it Cut my song on homie, yeah, that squad shit we own it Droopy high come see the future, we livin for the moment Whole sucka on corners, the dance floor up pistols on it And everybody know you fuck up, we killin ya The whole club familia' with my familia Chicken heads Boriquas gon' follow where I go I ain't got nothing for them but a dick and a taco ? And everybody know right where the gat me when they dap ? put yo eyes right when you lap me And I ain't come to sign shit, unless it's a bar tappin I ain't takin no pictures unless I'm palm in ? Where the fuck y'all? {Chorus: Mack 10} Let the thugs in the club, show us love Show us love, let the thugs in the club Let the thugs in the club, show us love Show us love, let the thugs in the club {Mack 10} L.A. let the thugs in the club A-T-L let the thugs in the club Chi-town let the thugs in the club Let the thugs in the club, show us love {B.G.} I like shinin' but dogg I'm in love with thuggin I like clubbin but I get off when I'm beefin and bustin I got a Bentley, Beemeh', Benz, Lex Got a bullet proof Hummer for just creepin on 'sess I got a roley, matter fact bout three or fou' Got a couple of neck pieces |
||||||
| 4. |
| 5:08 |
|
|||
|
(Baby) hmm-hmm (Mack 10) you reday to tell 'em (Baby) listen tell 'em about you fresh hook 1: (Mickey) we got them things got them brains got a million dollars locked in the stock exchange told the dealer keep the change when i cop the rings we lock the game we got them things verse 1: (Mack 10) i got 30 cars, lived a rich life like a hundred hoes |
||||||
| 5. |
| 4:24 |
|
|||
|
[Verse 1: Mack 10]
I jumped out the blocks like ready! set! go! Check all my traps and dodge the fair cold I'm all about the mix like a fuckin collage And out the gararge, is the Bentley Onage With the brains blowed out, so is the suns beeming I got a jacket drooming and the hoes feeming Since I'm Westside Connected I got a streets on hype I got big deals, big squeels, big wheels, big pipes [Verse 2: Ice Cube] Twenty-inches row - going get these hoes Pinky hoes - when I roll with my negros Be a freak about it and I'm a see about it Speak about it, not bitch I'ma be about it Who want some of this, West running this Mack 10 with the playboy bunny bitch She's a dummy bitch - with a money pit? You broke ass niggas can't even stomach this [Verse 3: W.C.] What that connect nigga like three times selling Six-double-0-west nigga selling rich roll delling Throw it up, hold it up, guns bust fo' fingas up Two twisted in the middle with the thumb cuffed Chevy Nash and dippin at ass and king of the zaggin Fo'-fo' macking and coat tacking Dub the hood and I'm in blue friend at 'em Front up the club, I'm duolete, do for talk and mack 'em trick [Chorus: Butch Cassidy] What is it like? Tossing 'em hoes And rolling on fools on them fo's Flossing 'em chain, we doing big thangs And busting on punks at close range This is the way us gangsta's roll Sit back and watch it as it unfolds Bitches on suck us done so cold Ahhh! this is the life we chose [Verse 4: Mack 10] Dope money and rapping shit I'm all with it And all I know is streets is how I spit it Chickenhawk see a bird, I gotta get it So if ya hood come up |
||||||
| 6. |
| 0:59 | 
|
|||
| 7. |
| 5:04 |
|
|||
| 8. |
| 5:06 |
|
|||
|
Do the damn thang! Ya dun-da-dunts! ..
[repeat ";Do the damn thang"; in background of intro] [talking] In the west, they do the damn thang.. In the east, they do the damn thang.. In the south, they do the damn thang.. In the north, they do the damn thang.. The whole world, do the damn thang.. [Mack 10] I do the damn thang, I let my nuts hang And of course I'ma Inglewood swang (swang..) Off the top - fuck cops! Rollin through the hood in an ol' school drop Six fo's - pimp those Hoes after shows with the SWAT meet cothes Low-ride - Wessyde! And all bitch-ass niggaz betta hide Big wheels - ex-peels I sign nuttin but eight-figure deals Shoot blocks - sell rocks Mack 10 got the block on lock (do the damn thang) Crack bitches - get riches Stay gangsta and FUCK all snitchas Bust nines - flatlines Killa Cali riders and gang signs [Chorus] Do the damn thang, do the damn thang.. (wha?) Do the damn thang, do the damn thang.. (wh-wha?) Do the damn thang, do the damn thang.. (wha?) Do the damn thang, do the damn thang.. (who?) Do the damn thang, do the damn thang.. (who?) Do the damn thang, do the damn thang.. *vocal scratching* [Mack 10] Long braids - bandanas (long braids) Three mil' on a house in Atlanta (hot man) Test coupes - triple beams And keep work for the neighborhood fiends Starched khakis - red chucks (get your walk on) Red everythang, cars and trucks (gon' do it like that?) Yes y'all and - big ballin Shut the town down nigga, shot callin Fo' life - with stripes (AH-HA!) CMR keep it crackin all night (see that) Dominoes - dice games G'd up and I got hood fame Westside - platinum chai |
||||||
| 9. |
| 5:08 |
|
|||
|
[Talking]
Gangsta? (haha!, what?) Mikkey Finest (fa sho') Ah King Pin's Dream Mack 10, Inglewood I'm nigga Mikkey Chi-Town, Birdman [*Laughs*] Listen, Whatcha got nigga?... [Mikkey] I got a trouble find bitches in the kitchen and they cooking it row Realisting feams like stitches with the hooker in they chow Fuck the law, man - I'm known for cooking it row Til the cops just chill - I got something for y'all I got a Bentley and the Hummer and they sittin on 'em daters I got a hot power lawyer with the million retater Douth-South, Westside - man, I own my city Got judges on my pay roll like they own the nigga It's a professional with my game, I ball with the best Birdman, Down-South - Mack 10 out West Fuck with my money, put to put the mack to yo' chest Want war? I take it there - or rather tattooed to there See them Cash Money niggas - how can I iced like 'em Cooking coke from the pill-up, it's got a prices like 'em You know a nigga Whoopise - I got a wife like him You heard a Micheal Jordan right! - I got a life like him I'ma mothafuckin hustla - y'all know the game Chi-Town Mikkey Flow - y'all know my name Game is risky but a nigga rather died the fame and live life - broken hungry out here, cracking for bread [Mikkey (Chorus)] 2x It's a King Pin's Dream - coke and feminines Belley's on triple beams, got scuffles with triple feams So, busting out the scene - guns, scopes and beems But the thing about it dream - it ain't all watta seem [Mack 10] (yo, yo, yo) When it comes to drugs - these reppers ain't get none but fo' Ohhh square ass nigga and full of brains are sold I Know 'em Feds is on heat but I d |
||||||
| 10. |
| 4:22 |
|
|||
|
[Talking]
Nigga wanna hustle Nigga wanna sell dope where we grow up nigga Ride with me and learn something nigga If not - stay away my playground nigga Yeah! - this shit right here is for real hustle niggas Real street niggas - y'all follow me Squared niggas - kick back and listen how is shit really go Uh! [Verse One] Cabbage work hoes goes spoke and pistols Last in getting away hearin whistles Scopin down map gestural back full of chips A hot ass scraps ski mask and two in the clips Scoop on 'em motophone let 'em know it's on I pack use 'em draws homeboy - nigga we goners Beep on 'em Mexican though - we won't work No Baking Soda slides twenty on 'em for the dirt Got 'em - strap on 'em my shell with ducktapes See nervous - while the Greyhouse escpae across Interstate Jumpin up in the friendly scotia down chicken weight For the work show up - and really do - be straight They pull up bread all the lookin flawless us a show dog Twenty bird and rally car like she a mother law Damn! - she'll need no duck the law Bitch got us switch walkin with the work like motherfuck the law [Hook] That's the shit nigga ball fo' How they dope that they wall fo' Jumpin on ' em hoes They floss the hoes We carry choppers stole us on homies with calicos With the funk kick - wishin y'all holy copy with those Banged out, thanged out - everybody hangin' out Whole crews anybody sayin we bust used Go back - blast the gas about to shootin' us For cabbage work hoes and hundred fo's [Verse Two] Now in the N and N.Y. talkin' to why dies with the bitch And some load ki's me insider It's now and never - turn back why should we-acapo |
||||||
| 11. |
| 1:03 |
|
|||
| 12. |
| 4:45 |
|
|||
| 13. |
| 4:16 |
|
|||
|
[Mack 10]
Every time I get my hands on I try to make you dub, with my chips wouldn't stack Than man I wouldn't hustle I'm legal dog - I got the same desert eagle dog When birds fly out of my hands And to my people dog - Ya understand The white man can't fuck with me I Hoo-Bang in the streets Hoo my company Papered up beyond mother fucker's belief A millionaire patrolling the city streets See the flames burning in my eyes mother fucker? Cause if you sleep on it you get these dreams mother fucker I ain't the one like I said, |
||||||
| 14. |
| 4:39 |
|
|||
|
[Talking]
Mack dime, Scarface (demand the respect) X to tha Z Xzibit [Scarface} I got trouble rhymes to a death the troubled times A double nine incase niggas get out of line And heaven knows that I tried to change But in the mist of trying to be a better man Trouble is all I can seem to see And the fact I know tomorrow isn't promised to me So from this day forth I'll be all I can be My brother turned his back on me Got to be my own man Regardless of what the stakes is I'ma play my own hand And I'm tired of being let down by my so-called friends Regardless to the blood shed ? no tears in the end Father please forgive for I have sinned ? forgive us all But I ain't to blame ? the lunatics wearing my heart And I think I gotta build another wall Cause I don't want the world to see me Cause maybe these demons will try to end me I'm exhausted and my body's sleepy Never the less it's hard to rest ? I'm a nervous wreck I walk with the stress I use to walk around with a vest But now a days I be like ";fuck it dog You fuck with me I gots to fuck with ya'll"; And ";make ends"; is just another word for ";pay back"; Paying you back today for this grudge that I had way back You niggas I grew up with wouldn't play with that I send you bitches to the morgue with holes in your head No remorse ? why you think my niggas taught me to ball? Cause I be walking around in designer suits? In fact these niggas know that I'm the truth Always scandalous ? eye before I shoot For disrespect there is no excuse Calling the choices [Xzibit talking] No respect, respect is respect [Xzibit (chorus)] X! Want a war? Die on Walk the line g |
||||||
| 15. |
| 0:53 |
|
|||
| 16. |
| 5:21 |
|
|||
|
[Baby]
(All gravy nigga, fuck) Fuck them niggas cause they bitch made anyway Can't come in tha hood, I hope he got an A-K He crossed tha line, nigga dropped a dime Then he ran to those white folks sayin' I tried I Stunna one of a kind you muthafucka Catch me in tha summer in a rag top hummer Nigga pack yo tools, nigga pay yo dues Been a G about this gangsta shit, it ain't no rules Nigga cook yo food, hard ki's we move Then yo get up on tha stand |
||||||
| 17. |
| 4:56 |
|
|||
|
[B.G.]
Look here my nigga; it's for your own motherfuckin' good You wanna keep your bling, stay out my neck of the woods If you a stranger caught anywhere in my hood How you get left, the only thing people can say is "Ughh" I been know for reignin' choppers, bluka-bluka Been stankin' baller blockers and duckin' coppers Got a holla, from my nigga Mack 10-sion An told me to meet him at LA X and its 'bout some business I flauge in, he tellin' me some busta trippin' Please let your lil' dog pay this cat a visit Fuck wit the O.G. and B.G. get busy Make sure his days livin', cut to a minimum I speak this shit 'cause I mean it my nigga I creep and where I catch ya, is where I leave ya my nigga A lot of niggas don't walk it, and talk about it But this nigga B.G. gon' be dog about it [Chorus B.G.] Now when we come, we come, and dog we ain't playin' It's bluka, bluka boo-yuka, boo-yuka, fla, fluka, flame We a dog nigga, we walks that walk and talk that talk nigga Now when we come, we come, and dog we ain't playin' It's bluka, bluka boo-yuka, boo-yuka, fla, fluka, flame I'm a dog nigga, and I'ma walk that walk and talk that talk nigga [Mack 10] Nigga I'm 'bout Sherm' smokin' and trigga chokin' And leave my enemies dead and their fuckin' blood soakin' Don't doubt it, it's C.M.R so I shout it Like navigation, I map it out, route it then be a dog about I lay low, jack you for every dollar and paceo That's all Hoo-Bang did, homies above, everything else I love Say B.G. you need a hundred stack from Mack You'll need 20 jugs of water plus a whole gang of crack But firsts things first, find him, hit' em wit the tool-acapo |
||||||
| 18. |
| 4:12 |
|
|||
|
[Turk] beef done started nigga, ain't no checking out now I'ma bring it everyday til' I X ya out now see with that guerrilla reppin got ya in two some shit you can't handle so nigga fuck you wanna be gangsta? killer type nigga? betcha money you gonna die tonight nigga ya must don't know who you fucking with lil Turk young and thuggin' and that nigga Mack 10 I'll put your family in it - yeah I plays it raw you'd do it to me so I don't give a fuck I'm a young nigga don't let the age fool ya two-double-O-one thats the ones that'll lose ya nigga find you, I'm on the phone with him what he coming this way? whatch how quick I will split him and when I shoot nigga look shoot to kill call it a murder cause you ain't gonna live [chorus] MURDER Bloody Bloody MURDER MURDER nothing but the killer [Mack 10] I'll make you disappear as if you dissolved my problems solved - its the 44 revolve I squize nigga please nigga shit ya'll could never fuck with none of these niggas you know whats best for you homie? I feel you, I know you want to be hard but just know I'm gonna kill you ya'll on that rah-rah shit fuck around and let me hit that la-la shit now I'm full of that (?) they call angel dust and I ain't the one to be trusting cause I feel like busting I got hot hollows that'll run right throw ya (?) runaway and Turk gonna do you so do the right thing homie ya understood? keep ya flasks tucked in when you come to my hood you would get a pass but I'm over set trippin' got a dome lil daddy cause you shouldn't been slippin' [chorus] MURDER Bloody Bloody MURDER MURDER nothing bu |
||||||
|
