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Welcome to the ghetto
(Verse 1) Livin day by day in my hood on the spot See the same old things:same dope fiends cops Just an average day in the streets of California 5-0 find a young girl dead around the corner Mommies on her knees she had tears in her eyes And nobody knew why the young girl had to die People look ashamed it's been life this fo years Bloody sheets on her body face wet from her mama's tears She couldn'ta been over 4-5 And if mommy wasn't based she would still be alive But now the street is a place you could be swallowed by death Brothas takin each other's lives And goin to REST IN PEACE I wonder if heaven got a ghetto My cousin died last year And I still can't let go I walk the streets of my city of my neighborhood Seein dope fiends livin off can goods 15 niggaz on the corner And niggaz die young in California 5-0 'll get a dope case and flaunt it Have your ass on "America's Most Wanted" But I don't slang or either gang-bang And though my old school homies do the same thang I still got love cause you gotta live So you can give And raise a family G But you gotta do your best slangin D-O-P-E So keep a grip on yourself and stay mellow And welcome to the ghetto (welcome hard up with it to my life) ?? (chorus) 4x Welcome to the ghetto (welcome hard up with it to my life) (Verse 2) From across the seas comes cocaine But you never seen a black man fly the plane Look at the news:a young black death Was it drug related,take a guess I flash when I look in the mirror black Cause my reflection is a 9 millimeter Gat I think about genocide And have thoughts of my homies who died Everybody backstabbin But I ain't the one to talk I'm into gafflin Death gives a shit about your color But yet I see mo dead young brothas I'm goin crazy out here Seein 24 brothas die by the end of the year And I still gotta deal with the 5-0 And I stopped sellin dope in 9-0 But if I came to it I probably still do it Put a Nine in my draws get straight to it I hope that I never see the day That I get 20 years for a cake B-K-A as a key So open up the door for the mo money But I ain't gotta do that G Cause I'm down with the F-A to the C to the U to the L-T-Y G-nut X-tra Large and S-P-I-C-E make niggas feel like jello And welcome to the ghetto (Welcome hard up with it to my life) (chorus) 4x Welcome to the ghetto 7x |
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| 2. |
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* also appears on the Menace II Society soundtrack
The trigga gots no heart (the trigga a trigga) <repeat> Verse 1 I'm sick up in this game I'll take no secondary shorts & slam dunk these riddles up in yo' chest like Jordan Menace II Society mad man killer just call me the East Bay Gangsta neighborhood drug dealer Quick to make decisions & I'm quick to get my blast on Do a 187 with this bloody Jason mask on Rollin' up out the cut deeper than Atlantis tore his chest apart left his heart on the canvas Now I gots mo' mayo than the rest of the pushers rat a tat tat tat came my Tec from the bushes I blast with no heart 'cause I'm heartless in nine-trey A-K blast on that ass if in my way, gangsta slangin' 'Cola since the very very start much love for this game so the trigga gots no heart Ain't no love trick The trigga gots no heart <repeat> (gunshot) Verse 2 Release the trigga as I blast on a nigga nina put a cease on his Timex ticker And uhh playas he can't give me no love 'cause I'm stuck on the corna in the ghetto slangin' dub sacks and I duck when they fly by 'cause Killa Cali' is the state for the drive-by caps peel from the gangstas in my hood ya better use that nina 'cause that deuce-deuce ain't no good and umm I'm taking up a hobby maniac murderin' doin' massacre robbery I'm twenty-two & I'm still slangin' dub sacks I gives the fiend some love but ain't no love back Much love in this game ain't no love gangsta 187 is a art 'cause the trigga gots no heart Ain't no love trick The trigga gots no heart Ain't no love trick Me shootin' him up me shootin' him up if he no give my pay Ain't no love trick <repeat> Verse 3 The trigga gots no heart & I'll be damned if I'm broke old pushin' on a shoppin cart They blast on a friend of me another sad case of a mistaken identity 12 O' clock & my 'hood's dubbin' pay back I sat & watched them shoot my homey seen his face crack Uzis spray like Raid on these cockroaches a dropped bomb full of 187 soldiers Doin' dirt 'cause we dirty when the trigga pull Seventeen in his body left the boy full of hollow tips so I know he won't be comin' back I let my hair platt & let my mail stack But my sweet sweet Sunday had to turn tart his posse came & they triggas had no heart Me kill all man say kill all man say kill 'em all man kill 'em all with me Glock Glock Kill all man say kill all man say kill 'em all man kill 'em all with me Glock Glock Kill all man say kill all man say kill 'em all man kill 'em all with me Glock Glock Yeah mon blam! The 187 fact is back in the house man for nine-trey this here see kill a man wit me Glock BLOW!! 187 thousand G |
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(Spice-1)
Damn Eiht What the fuck we gonna do now? (MC Eiht) I don't know homeboy youknowI'msayin? But I'll tell you like this we gonna bust some ass for the ninety-three shot (Spice-1) Right, these motherfuckers don't understand We ain't from around here (MC Eiht) That's all right youknowI'msayin? Cause we ain't takin no shorts youknowI'msayin? Compton meets the motherfuckin Bay Town nigga So step the fuck off this youknowI'msayin? My nigga Spice get with em (Spice-1) Ya see I'm nothin but a mac-10 shooter Killer man looter on the creep with the glock Got it cocked picidy pop I cold shot when the cop drop m-a-money gone nigga Mind of a lunatic on a steel trigger motherfuckin flash backs of nigga's bodies rip from the AK blast on that ass hollow point to the tip to the toe Creep slow and watch the blood hit the fuckin flo' It's the goddamn murda show Starring a nigga in black wearin a weed hat creepin low And co-starring is a psycho motherfucker He grew up in Compton bustin caps at the cluckers His name is MC motherfuckin Eiht He got the Uzi weigh a ton eatin niggas like a steak on a plate So nigga get your popcorn and peanuts cause we nuts and we know sit back and watch a nigga murda at the murda show (Chorus: Spice-1 & MC Eiht) A to the motherfuckin K 187 proof ass nigga from the Bay (murda show) Yeah, and it's the nigga from Compton that's stompin Raise up off my jock with the fools that I glock A to the motherfuckin K 187 proof ass nigga from the Bay (murda show) Yeah, and it's the nigga from Compton that's stompin Raise up off my jock with the fools that I glock (MC Eiht) Nigga shut your fuckin trap, yeah your punk ass is sure Sure that they sew when I peel your cap The slide the slick, suck my dick No mistaking I bring home greens, fuck the bacon The big black neck getting motherfuckers sprung They'll be put in the trash by this Compton tongue Eiht, Spice-1, kickin much ass for fun Ain't nothin but some nigga sold the one Fools need to stay the fuck down They can't hang when we bang from Compton and the Bay Town It's like the last dance or your last chance When I reach in for the strap in my fuckin pants I ?pump? dead then the scene is fair ain't nothin said Even your skinny ass dead, I can't sleep cause it's time to go Fool or I'll be late for the murda show nigga (Chorus: Spice-1 & MC Eiht) A to the motherfuckin K 187 proof ass nigga from the Bay (murda show) Yeah, and it's the nigga from Compton that's stompin Raise up off my jock with the niggas that I glock A to the motherfuckin K 187 proof ass nigga from the Bay (murda show) Yeah, and it's the nigga from Compton that's stompin Raise up off my jock with the fools that I glock (Spice-1) Step in to the torture chamber nigga let me torture Hangers on your motherfuckin back bring ya scorcher Psychopathic madmen dead body chucker Quick to pull the trigger on another motherfucker Slangin to the bass head bitches in the alley Killin for my motherfuckin money in recally My nigga MC Eiht will make the getaway drive I got the gat hangin up out the motherfuckin ride Niggas be getting the duck sit fuckin with the player, sprayer layer Nigga out with the shout of the t-t-tech, Mic motherfuckin check one Stabbin niggas up in the lungs plus the caps with bloody guns My Uzi's got my back if player haters wanna jump The motherfuckin hollow head his chest thump, thump And all the niggas leave his bloody body in the dust One-nigga dead seventeen caps bust That's how the niggas do this shit where I'm from Red-Rum leave your body numb blast of the dumb, dumb I got the glock and I'm headin for the liquor store Me and Eiht are two-eleven at the motherfuckin murda show (Chorus: Spice-1 & MC Eiht) A to the motherfuckin K 187 proof ass nigga from the Bay (murda show) Yeah, and it's the nigga from Compton that's stompin Raise up off my jock or you might get the glock A to the motherfuckin K 187 proof ass nigga from the Bay (murda show) Yeah, and you ask me to stay the fuck down Bangin from Compton and the Bay Town (MC Eiht) Yeah, come on Uh, Spice-1 and MC Eiht and that eases the nine youknowI'msayin? |
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| 4. |
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[ VERSE 1 ]
Pullin up a 500 with the 20-inch D's A muthafucka better freeze When he see me cockin these Two glocks, bust off a few shots Catch a muthafuckin case like 2Pac A real nigga gotta have balls and brains To maintain in the game Livin in the city with the killers and thugs And might be dealin some drugs A nigga either show love Or bust slugs in mugs Time tickin on my Rolex Niggas be watchin me dippin and trippin if I'm heated Cause I leave they ass deleted, erased I seen the bitch in his face When I was pullin on the trigger One less nigga Enemies stallin, I be killin em all Cause I got the brains and balls And I don't beckon for no bitches or no niggas at all It's r.i.p. on the wall I be the last nigga standin tall [ CHORUS ] Real niggas gotta have balls and brains To maintain in the game Suckers dream of schemes A baller fiend for cream I weigh my muthafuckin life on a triple beam [ VERSE 2 ] Don't let your mouth write a check that your balls can't cash Or put your Uzi where you mouth is, nigga, we on a mash Ain't no rules to the game, muthafuckas run up and blast Drive the car in a alley, throw the body up in the trash If it wasn't for rappin I'd be jackin you muthafuckas With the fully automatic, we killers, you can't touch us Tell me how you gon' deal with the niggas that feed When they're comin from the city where the murderers bleed Keep a strap on the side, a A.K., Mac-10 Watchin all my enemies and all my friends Rollin up on niggas with the Tec in a Benz Might need checkin my ends, money and power'll win And when the enemies see me, I'ma dip in the cut Pull out my Uzi and tear his muthafuckin ass up Mob shit, dumpin and jump in a drive-by bucket Screamin out 'fuck it'! [ CHORUS ] [ VERSE 3 ] When I'm dead throw a blunt in my casket if I didn't die high My niggas go to war for me in gee rides Skip the killas, real niggas pack Uzis up in the pillows Big figures, hope you feel us, we love them big wheels Puttin niggas in comas if he ain't dead from the blast Get to hospital, stick a knife in his ass Mob into the hooptie, put the foot to the gas Forget wearin a mask and stick and move real fast Got the morgue on my pager Niggas be talkin 'bout killin me while I'm sleepin in my bed alone And when I'm headin home they wanna follow me on Until I tap em with the strap and get to bustin the chrome It's bullet holes in my hooptie Some muthafuckas rollin round wanna shoot me It's all bad, live a life on the razor with all eyes on me These niggas be talkin, but they be so phoney [ CHORUS ] |
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Verse One: Spice-1
Born to die but hard to kill, a buh-buh-ballin ass timer Blow a hole up in your chest like the fuckin Una-Bomber Your arms still bleedin fifty feet from your body Your 40 ounce threw way back to the other side of the party You was fuckin with a killa, your potnahs tried to tell you but you didn't listen, now your whole chest missin in action Cause I'm kidnappin motherfucker's souls Leavin holes in they bodies when they go I pops out the motherfuckin Chevy 350 ragtop Still bustin down the fuckin block, the killin don't stop We regulate the co-kayana in a hoggish manna It's like you fuckin with the man-a, Tony Montana We sent some killas, to murda all the ones you love Chainsaw your motherfuckin ass up in the bathtub Another murda, another fucked up day Some more drama, fucked in the Dirty Bay Chorus: Spice-1 Sittin on the dock of the dirty bay, waitin for my yea) I might have to use my ak (repeat 2X, vary 3rd = that AK, repeat) Verse Two: Spice-1 I back for these keys, if they ain't have me what they got (break yoself nigga) I'm dealin these motherfuckers on top, sieze on the spot Waitin another thirty minutes for these punk ass niggaz and when they roll up and get out they ride I'ma get out, you stay inside and if you happen to see some killin nigga don't go into shock Betta hop out with two chops tied together with your dirty socks Cause livin up in the bay we gone have a split up in it and your memory and corpse with shit up in it Niggaz seein signs of overkill, yeah you did but niggaz still kicked him in his motherfuckin head but a cop with a donuts busted my choppa in the air Niggaz can't fuck with these motherfuckin nightmares Sellin keys and a half, some niggaz filled with slugs and all the bodies drug, all the motherfuckin ditches dug I bury Paul, cuz I'm the pallbearer get your dome clapped in the dirty bay area Chorus Verse Three: Spice-1 I'm sick up in this game I take no motherfuckin shorts, of course, I'm cappin Leavin niggaz body parts collapsin from the tech cuz I collect another killin When I ride by do a drive-by domes either peelin Bumpin up old school ep shit get off my ballzac Sippin on that Hennesey me and my G is to' back See we don't be stress enough drama until the four chump But we'll bring it to you and murda if you want some Rollin up in caddies and dumpin out tinted windows Put so much lead up in niggaz, use em for pencils See can't be flossin this shit to make yourself look harder it's like, throwin some bloody meat up in the water Nigga, then you will never yourself a nice day cause these shark ass niggas'll gobble your ass up in the Dirty Bay Chorus: repeat 3X |
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Intro:
Coolin on the corner with the cellular phone you can tell that the East Bay was his home More mail than the rest of the pushers, cuz he's got a technine in the bushes Verse 1: And that's how the shit was handled, first name Jack, last name Daniels Had two boys named E and J, E had the nine and J the AK Clocked on a street called Hennessey, robs with a mother fucker named O.E. E had a bitch and her name was Gin, had a nigga named Juice doin time in the pen You couldn't tell that Gin was a bitch though, cuz she was fuckin some nigga named Cisco E and J knew tonight they'd come with two fat niggas named Bacardi and Rum The cap jacks hoe and the sight was scary, the bitch was all bloody and her name was Mary Officer Martini wiped up the body, and all fingers pointed at Rum and Bacardi E and J told Jack the hotel, so Jack tried to bail Juice out of the jail But ol' E had the judge on the payroll clout, so Jack shot the judge up and rolled Juice out Now everybody's talking ‘bout Gin and Juice, Juice shot Gin cuz the bitch was loose Now E is shook thinkin they ain't gonna get me, I'll round up the posse and call up Mickey Mickey was big, he only sold 8 balls, had 99 niggas up against the wall E and J found out he made the call so E and J and Jack and Juice nined them all They were sent to the morgue and Mickey paid the bill, got the money from the bitch (?reckless?) Strawberry Hill Jack and Juice said Mickey wouldn't survive, but Mickey was slick he had a Colt 45 And now he's wonderin how he got the word, it was the neighborhood wino Thunderbird You wonder how the murder rap got so much juice, it was a hundred and eighty-seven proof , Check it out Verse 2: Mickey sent St. Ides after Thunderbird, time for the Hurricane he said word Thunderbird in an alley waitin, wearin a beanie, tryin to get a sip from the cop Mr Martini St. Ides screwed off Thunderbird's top, spilled his drank and gave a swig to the cop But it's too late Martini knows it all, Mickey and his boy OD were slangin 8 balls Of cocaine to the strawberries on the hill, so when he asked for Juice he got a quick fill Mickey had his boy on Bourbon Blocks, the murderous cop killer Mr Peppermint Schnapps Mickey had this thing about nosey cops and it made Mr Peppermint lose his top Martini off duty waitin for the Night Train, didn't know his wife Champaign would never see him again Peppermint Schnapps creepin with the Colt 45, gotta peel his cap before the train arrives Gotta stay low in Broward here comes the train all the boys said the engineers Bartles and Jaymes There was a toot from the train and then a gun blast, Martini fell on the ground there was a big splash Mr Schnapps got up because the cops chased him, St. Ides and Mickey in a ‘vette ready in front of the station But you know Jack and Juice was undercover, and Jack was mad B cuz Mickey shot his lover there was big shootout and Mickey got juiced, he couldn't hang with the 1-8-7 proof Juice was splattered and St. Ides had took a fall, and then Endo smoked ‘em all Check it out! |
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[ D-Wiz ]
Hey yo, Spice What's goin on, man? I see five-o over there Is that five-o? [ Spice 1 ] Same muthafuckas that beat my partner down last week But I ain't trippin, I got this 187 Proof by my side It's finna be on [ D-Wiz ] Is that right? [ Spice 1 ] Yeah [ D-Wiz ] But where you stayin at, man, what's goin on? [ Spice 1 ] Same muthafuckin neighborhood, man Just tryin to get this shit off the ground This rap thing, you know? [ D-Wiz ] Yeah, I heard that shit, man Let them niggas know what time it is [ Spice 1 ] Yeah Check it [ VERSE 1 ] I like to walk around my hood, smokin dank a lot I see some brothers in the trees, is they slingin rocks? Runnin through a broken-down wooden fence A nigga didn't have brains cause he smoked sinse Or sess, or whatever you wanna call it He got the task on his ass, better haul it Fiends suckin up the crack in the backyard Dropped a pebble on the ground, now he's lookin hard Will he keep searchin or will he cease and just forget the hit? Or pull a jack move and let the nine click I'm in the cut, late night, about 12 o'clock I see some brothers bustin caps in a parking lot There go my homies rollin up in a black 'Vette Nothin but the money for the paycheck "Another day, another dead up in the alleyway" That's what the boys in the Bay up in Cali say The California life, task in the palm trees Brothers be clockin g's, slingin ki's Up in my neighborhood [ CHORUS: Larry B. Davis & Bobby B. Ross ] In my neighborhood (In my neighborhood) In my In my In my neighborhood In my neighborhood [ VERSE 2 ] Funk - is a part of my life It's the sound of the gangster Spice Warning - check out the blast of a shotgun Nine muthafuckin millimeter, have one Or two or three or four Cause every brother in my hood is hardcore Boom-boom! to the death of a cop Pop-pop-pop! - see another one drop Crazy-ass nigga off the peppermint schnapps And now you wonder why young niggas sling hop? Never woulda thought I'd be a dealer of dope Niggas slingin and bangin and breakin necks and throats The spot, it was poppin, but yet the fuzz kept ridin my jock Tick-tock, I watch the clock, they flock See a undercover cop raise off the block That's how it is in the game of slingin rocks Cause on the TV they make it look real good But Mr. Rogers ain't got shit on my niggas up in the neighborhood [ CHORUS: Larry B. Davis & Bobby B. Ross ] In my neighborhood (In my neighborhood) In my In my In my neighborhood In my neighborhood [ VERSE 3 ] Welcome to the ghetto, although I call it my neighborhood Some people get out, but some people stay for good I see a dopefiend yellin he's a O.G. He scratched his head and started starin like he knows me I say, "What up, old man, I seen your face before" It was my homie's pops, shirt dirty, pants tore He had a 40 in his hand, left a little swallow He said, "Young-ass nigga," and then he threw the bottle I ducked down, and I had to duck real fast Stepped two feet back, and then I banked his ass I started kickin and stompin my nigga's brains out I heard a bitch yell "freeze!" and runnin out the house It was his wife, and the bitch started bustin at me I can't believe this shit, this bitch is trigger-happy Pull out my nine, bust the bitch in the left titty That's how it is in a burned-out dopefiend city And now you're sayin I'm the nigga up to no good If gives a fuck if you're Bush, you get jacked up in my neighborhood [ CHORUS: Larry B. Davis & Bobby B. Ross ] In my neighborhood (In my neighborhood) In my In my In my neighborhood In my neighborhood |
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(feat. 2pac)
Tupac: Spice heres go them niggas yo hit that shit, hit that shit. We all niggaz going down where the fuck ya all going down. Spice 1: Damn aint this a bitch ya all got me fucked up on this ol' playa haten ass shit. Know what I'm sayin'? Understand me? When I was broke you all niggaz didn't give a fuck if I was pissin' on myself, or shittin' off tha Bay Bridge, nigga. Now you in my mutha fuckin' mix talkin' that ol' crazy shit, that's alright cuz I'm gonna bust a cap in that ass. Me and Pac goin' let you know about that ol' playa haten ass shit though. Ya see these jealous mutha fuckaz That be playin me G Like a sucka ass nigga see That ain't feeling me It ain't easy To kill a G A mutha fuckin' playa From tha F - A - to tha C Back stabbers in tha mutha fuckin' place Smilin' in my face I got my hand on my gun Cuz they got me on tha run Spice mutha fucin' One I'm for leavin' bodies numb I'm a G mutha fucker Can't you see I'm a G Rollin' deep With my phat fo-fo uzi I comes with a big phat gat And hollow point clip And quick To be a soldier By my shit So nigga Don't try no mo' shit No ho shit Cuz when I was broke Nigga didn't give a fuck About my statis Now that I'm at this I'm loced out And livin' lavish So fuck tha gun control aBout ta bust a cap nigga Cuz tha jealous got me strapped Spice 1: I keep my hand on my gun cuz they got me on the run Tupac: Jealous got me strapped Spice 1: I keep my hand on my gun cuz they got me on the run Tupac: Jealous got me strapped Spice 1: I keep my hand on my gun cuz they got me on the run Tupac: Jealous got me strapped Spice 1: I keep my hand on my gun cuz they got me on the run Tupac: Now niggaz know that tha jealous got me strapped Stepping close to the edge I got tha cops and tha feds on my back And there's no way that I'm giving up I rather bury you bitches Cuz ain't no marks-man to worry my riches If I catch yo ass in traffic (humm) You betta pull for ya pistol an open fire Or get blasted (Booo Yahh!!) I'll be damned if I drop It don't stop I'm boxin' mutha fuckaz with my glock A skinny ass neva had a penny ass nigga I figure my Mossberg pump will show them punks who's bigger (Blah) And even if I did fall -- I'll still ball I'm bustin' mutha fuckers with my back against the wall Till these jealous ass bitches kill me I'll be thugin' like a mutha fucker Nigga feel me And ain't no time for mistakes So homies watch ya back Cuz these jealous ass tricks got me strapped Jealous got me strapped... Spice 1: I keep my hand on my gun cuz they got me on the run Tupac: Jealous got me strapped Spice 1: I keep my hand on my gun cuz they got me on the run Tupac: Jealous got me strapped Spice 1: I keep my hand on my gun cuz they got me on the run Tupac: Jealous got me strapped Spice 1: I keep my hand on my gun cuz they got me on the run... Spice 1: Homie ya know if I don't be runnin' with my strap Then I might get blasted Get blasted or blast That's how I'm livin' So I blast and blast the bastard I can't be worried about no jail time Cuz niggaz they tryin' ta take my head I can't have shit if a nigga dead So I bust back And break the bitch niggaz off propa with a four-four take nine a chopper And try and decapatate a niggaz arms from with his shoulders These jealous niggaz don't know they fuckin' around with a soldier I don't be slippin' So nigga don't wait for me ta fall And if I got enough A hallow tip will smoke æem all, y'all Envious niggaz prepare to fly off ya feet Cuz I'm commin' with some mutha fuckin' heat Playa, so keep ya aim straight And hit a nigga on tha first shot Cuz I'm a be tryin' ta make your mutha fuckin' heart stop And don't be screamin' out for your family bitch Cuz it was your choice That we jump into this gangsta shit Tupac: Jealous got me strapped Spice 1: I keep my hand on my gun cuz they got me on the run Tupac: Jealous got me strapped Spice 1: I keep my hand on my gun cuz they got me on the run Tupac: Jealous got me strapped Spice 1: I keep my hand on my gun cuz they got me on the run Tupac: Jealous got me strapped Spice 1: I keep my hand on my gun cuz they got me on the run |
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Dope Fiend Willy:
Heh Heh Yeah goddamn it? that old gangsta shit right there boy goddamn shit heh heh this is Dope Fiend Willy from the last mutha fuckin record I want the ten piece hey I got me some now I don? give a fuck but uh huh yeah you all ain? gonna know nothin bout this O.G. shit unless you start knowin sumpim about Uzi? and shit So uh? Verse 1: Spice 1 Now this 380 was a bitch who used to ho up on my block she lived on smith-n-wesson with that pimp Mr. Glock now glock had many bitches, he sold pussy by the pound and bitches jocked his trigga everytime he came around Big baller, big game shooter until he met that crazy mutha fucka Mr. Ruger Now ruger was a pimp too, He had his own hoes Mrs Hollow Tip and Neener who wore ho?sh clothes G-string up the ass with the big fat clitoris drinkin that Colt 45 cuz she? a gangsta bitch I love my neener and my neener loves me mutha fucka? think I? crazy cuz I? trigga happy Chorus in the background: Trigga happy, Trigga happy, Trigga happy nigga (repeat 4X) Dope Fiend Willie: heh heh, well goddamn smith-n-wesson, heh heh heh, I got me a colt 45 back at the mutha fuckin house heh heh, yeah I? ready to do somethin?with one of these little ol?oung mutha fucka? heh heh yeah, but I think maybe a ol? ten piece hook me up mutha fucka I know you got that shit yeah mutha fuckin Dope Fiend Willie in the house, don? give a fuck about no nigga heh mutha fucka shit. Verse 2: Spice 1 Mr Snubnose slangin the yay out the bullet shed And Mrs Mossberg blowin up his (???) And the shit it don? be gettin no better, you gotta watch for that crooked ass cop Officer Beretta Put your ass in a sling, check out that skinny ass bitch deuce deuce thinking she miss thing and Mr tech nine lookin for some convo and he jammed and stuttered when he could had a hoe But he still knockin boots from hell to heaven nigga got a page about three feety seven gettin paid for the cot, so now he got a deal with that bitch? pimp mr glock Chrous in the background: (Repeat 3X) Dope Fiend Willie: yeah yeah I like that new shit boy yeah heh heh trigga happy, trigga happy HEH trigga happy nigga Yeah I like that shit. I? bout to go over here and talk to these girls over here damn baby what you got on and shit. Verse 3: Spice 1 Now every nigga? wavin peace to the nine cuz glock hit the block in a jeep drinkin cheap wine with his nigga AK drug kingpin gotta find Mr Technine do his ass in Niggas plottin hits plottin schemes but Mr Technine? got an AR-15 An OG nigga from the hood got his cash on rollin fly brooms smokin chronic to the fuckin dome and Mr Glock got the word from his people Mr Technine? havin a party at the Desert Eagle So right in front of the club when he checked his beeper Technine blasted his ass with the street sweeper Chorus in the background: (repeat 4X) Dope Fiend Willie: (Smoking) (coughing) goddamn shit fuck yall and your folks got these days? That old chronic shit look at that! Goddamn boy let me get another hit of that shit ( smoking) goddamn (coughing) You ol?trigga happy mutha fuckin youth |
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Intro:
Yeah, I heard niggaz out here talking major shit you dig But ain't no motherfucker step to me and said "Spice you a punk" Cause you know I whup his motherfuckin ass Chorus: Niggas be muggin me, Don't show no love for me Don't playa hate me love tha thug in me Now when I walk on by, niggaz be muggin me Don't playa hate me love tha thug in me Now if your hoe come knockin at my door, she Must want a thug ass nigga for sure Cause it's the young playa Spiz-ice and I be stacking my paper 24 motherfuckin 7, a nigga havin it major Now we can do this like playas or we can hop into some gangsta shit Niggas be tryin to clown, when your bailin with your bitch I almost fell, gettin up out the car but see I had to pistol whip the nigga because he knows who we are We the niggas with the Lex's, Rolexes laced up with diamonds Timer, Timer, Baller, Baller she fucked with the shot caller now Didn't need no scrilla to get her, she want a thug nigga Poppin collars, and at the same time clockin dollars Real as they come I got soldiers ready to rob at night And when a nigga goes to your jar you don't attempt to fight You playa hate daily, talkin the shit on the ace But you a bitch cause you never talk the shit to my face Chorus 2X I put the pedal to the metal and uh jump the Chevy heavy in the game But about four five different ghetto names I can't be tamed I'm a G to my heart I can't be changed I've been breaking these niggaz down from the start I'm hearing shit up in the streets man, niggaz is crazy I've been serving them dope fiends on that block since you was babies And the world is yours, nigga you can have it all But if you talk bad on this G ass nigga you'll take a fall, blaaaow How many hoes want a nigga that get his ass kicked Car took, whupped and jacked ain't got no get back I ain't the type to let no nigga jack me Baby we cool if they run up on the Caddy Chorus 2X I'm off the Hennessy, when it's me she's callin right back I'm up in the Benzo on the mobile spittin the game off the yack I'm strapped with two blacks, cuz I ain't the baller who be out there slippin She understands niggaz be playa hatin so she ain't trippin Saggy pants G-braids but nigga still out to get paid I'm keepin my mind up on my money and all my money is made Shadetree niggaz be tryin to get in my mix Conflicts, 40 caliber cliques when I be burying tricks She seen me knock niggaz out now I do walkbys Now I put faulty ass niggas between them chalk lines See everybody be lookin when I be bailin, trailin indo smoke See it ain't nothing but the smooth sailin And now I kick back and enjoy my riches on a sunny day But sucka ass niggaz be all up in my way You're secure don't you worry bout a thang I got these two twin glocks and when they cocked this is what they say Chorus 2X |
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| 11. |
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Chorus:
Kill 'em all (x4) Cuz everybody dyin' on this muthafuckin' album Kill 'em all (x4) Don't kick up in the dirt when I'm puttin' in work Kill 'em all (x4) Cuz everybody dyin' on this muthafuckin' album I murda like this (this) I murda like that (that) Pull an ak-47 up out my muthafuckin' gangsta hat Professinal, columiban, necktiea, barbwire Strangula, over killa, dead fuckin' body hanga Peepin' out the window with an ak Pullin' up on these coppas Helicoptas, squad cars, squat 10's with choppas They tellin' me nigga, get the fuck out before ya die If you surrender, we'll make sure that you quickly fry Should I kick open the door and go to war Or should I stick my throat Leave a pipe bomb and a fuck you note Hallucinations of seein' lynched bodies burnin' And all the po-po had faces like mark furhman Tear gas through my glass window pane They wanna put me back up in the nut house again But I'm not goin' back and take my prozac They can keep the straight jacket And leave a straight mutha fuckin' jack A straight mutha fuckin' jack A straight mutha fuckin' jack Chorus (get the hell off my dick, I'm 1990-sick) (1990-sick) (x4) Nigga's to pull the lynch Yayo case and stick Marcia clark screamin' out murda, jumpin' on oj's dick Muthafuckas still sufferin' and healin' Some high tech knowledga white boys blew up the fuckin' fed buildin' Crazy niggas still bangin' and slangin' crack To the death, when the game put 'em up on they back Muthafuckas catchin' names, from shootin' high And phony niggas still get sprayed up on the block And I ain't changed much, hell I'm still smokin' four or five muthafuckin' choppas before it's twelve Muthafuckas think they know me, but they don't know I'm sellin' first class tickets to the murda show Don't wanna rap about no nigga, let's get it on Bustin' domes, buck shots through your rib bone So all you niggas up in the magazines talkin' shit Get off my dick, I'm 1990-sick Chorus Muh-uh-mobb in' up out the cu-uh-cut With a ready to pow one Nuh-uh-90 sick content of the album If there's a cure for this, don't cure me I'm comin' with the fury Playa hata's gettin' hung up like a jury So peep the game from an old school g you know so well The east bay gangsta, leaving caution tape and faces pale I bails on a full moon like the 12 o clock Neighborhood watch scared to look and see who on the block Just fed a rallys, no po-po come around here Cuz it's a different time, different game, different year 1990 sick Chorusx2 (get the hell off my dick, I'm 1990-sick) (1990-sick) (x4) |
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| 12. |
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(spice 1)
Four years ago I was stuck on the grind Slangin' crack 50 sacks straight 20's and dimes Till I came with shit that got a muthaf**ka known Coolin' on the corner with the cellular phone Took a test to be a muthaf**kin' g And all the niggas came amazed at me Since the age of 16 I been slangin' the crack The fiends used to scream for my muthaf**kin' sacks I used to cut the lleyo down to the bone But now I'm killin' niggas on the microphone Sp-spice 1 kickin' shit to mass A hennessy lemon squeeze and bubble bath You see that's the life that I lead I put a slug in a nigga try to f**k with me So step back move back niggas try to jack But ain't no muthaf**kin' love I put you on your back Start some shit at the party first nigga to glance I pull out my glock and make him piss in his pants No shorts on a dove I'm tryna come above They call me spice 1 and ain't no muthaf**kin' love (chorus): I said one to the two, two to two three Put a slug in your ass for you to say g The s to the p the I the c-e You sucka ass niggas can't f**k with me (spice 1): I rolls a gold cherokee nothin like a seville And when you look up inside you see a nigga that's real So if you see me cruisin' by keep your hands to your side You might catch a slug if I'm on a hoo-ride I said I first come I first served basis Niggas catchin' slugs in a lot of strange places One of a kind for my people's delight And to you sucka ass niggas you just ain't right Because you're snitchin' on your homies be seat up in the pen And niggas wanna stick you if they see your ass again You're hangin' on the ave you're chillin' with the crew But niggas walk away and all the bullets hittin' you (chorus) (spice 1): I said one to the two, two to three My dj xtra-large and g-n-u-t We roll up in the place pointin' straps at your face Tinted windows black hearse gold daytons straight lace Let off rounds you fall down to the ground You sucka ass nigga another dead clown You're a 5 dollar boy and I'm a million dollar player You's a sucka ass nigga I had to spray ya You say you pack a nine and a nine is fine But I'm blowin' out the back of your head from behind I'm comin' from the sickest city around Spittin' some gangsta shit the dirty bay is the town So g-nut and if you're bigger or pack the tight figure Shoot these haters with the strap that you got from that dead nigga {g-nut:} G-n-u-t in the place to be Pimp straight up out a player's university Every since kindergarden I acquired the knowledge Didn't have no mail so I said : 'f**k college!' I'm brown-skinned comin' straight out the stack And the game that I spit'll put your bitch on the back I'm dressed to kill I love to style I'm the mc you know hoe check my file The big-lip nigga for your regard 500 dollar spread for the credit card I hit your town then I go back home Break a bitch for her mail bought a cadillac chrome Deep in the cut for all you bitches delight And if a nigga playa-hate he gon have to fight Because when I grind I hits the strip Every time I sell out I buy a brand-new zip It don't take a lot to entertain' And like my nigga method man i'ma bring the pain You can't rock the shop if you high off hop You gotta let a nigga know you'll never stop And your game gotta make a lot of sense You gotta know when to start when the pimpin' begins |
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| 13. |
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Y'all ready to do this shit?
Bust em [ VERSE 1 ] When I was young I had the lust to pull the trigger And make change out a 5-dollar-ass nigga And as time went on, I gained much love But seein niggas' guts bust at a nightclub Too young to get my ass in, but they didn't trip Cause if I didn't get in, they knew I'd start shit So I was treated like the muthafuckin pope Security see me, so they scope And follow me around like a flock of hoes I had a squab with a bitch with a big-ass nose I started to knock the bitch out, but before I could I'm stopped short by a redneck peckerwood But he was slow, with the other hand slapped the hoe Then security rushed us out the backdo' So when I grabbed the nine, they thought I'd go nuts I'd roll by and bust caps at the grown-up's Young nigga got bold and off the liquor As a young nigga |
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| 14. |
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Ratta to the motherfuckin tat is how I stomp this
Much love for niggas that's sleepin up in the darkness Cause I'm a crooked nigga 2 like Pac I do a 1-8-7 with this motherfuckin glock Shot you in the body Had to break the gat off in his ass at the party, nigga Crazy as fuck, I thought you knew me Quick to put the bullets up in the motherfuckin Uzi, bitch A OG nigga, so I gotta G-O and creep slow And get this nigga while he's steppin out his car door Bust, bang, I let my nugs hang, chewed out my Mustang And let this motherfuckin gat sang A bloody glock and a pocket full of rock Got my shit on cock cause my slang don't stop In the darkness I ain't the nigga who's slippin I get the clip in, slam dunk it in the gat like Scottie Pippen And watch these niggas scream like bitches I break em off somethin proper And dump they ass in ditches Chorus: 1-8-7, dump the niggas up in ditches Fat nina for the player hatin bitches 1-87, dump the niggas up in ditches I got a fat nina for the player hatin bitches 1-87, dump the niggas up in ditches Fat nina for the player hatin bitches 1-87, dump the niggas up in ditches I got a fat nina for the player hatin bitches Engrave my name on the motherfuckin hollow tip A autograph from the nigga, killer, lunatic 13 for the birdy, fuckin him in the game When I get my hands dirty, nigga You wanna squab with the nina Comin up, wanna gat you with this trigger happy finger, bitch Still whoopin a nigga ass with some St. Ide's Jealous niggas be wantin to gat me because they can't rise I sell my shit wherever I want to sell my shit I dig a ditch and let him meet nina, my little bitch Cause a nigga ain't soft I fuck around and break every nigga in your hood off Somethin proper cause I can't be caught slippin 7 in the mornin cookin keys in my kitchen Here comes the pig bangin on my door Screamin some shit about that 5.0 They must of seen me kill that man and run off in a hurry Left the cola and the gats and the money cause a nigga done Chorus 1/2 187 erupt, another motherfuckin walk by in your hood I broke a gat in his ass because it's all good And now the boys in blue wanna come after The motherfuckin East Bay gangster murder master! I'ma make that bacon fry, if he keep followin me around Fuckin off my indo high Pigs don't notice shit, 1-87 is the nigga you're fuckin with When I was young I used to get my gun Fuck with the G.T.A and bust at they ass for fun Put the piggy in a blanket and when the G.T.A stall I'm fucked till I crank it Then I'm 187,000 G with a warrant on head, layin d-e-a-d My chrome gat shined like a sword One motherfucker sent off to the morgue Chorus 3/4 Yeah nigga, straight motherfuckin G's in nine-tre My nigga G-Nut, Omar, DJ motherfuckin Extra Large 187 Fac dumpin motherfuckers in ditches in nine-tre You know what I'm sayin? E-A-SKI, CM motherfuckin' T, you know what I'm sayin? Niggas straight doin it, gangsta shit |
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Plow!
Ba-da-ba-a-a-ah Comin down now Spice 1 Ya know Jah man Come again Everybody wanna go to heaven But don't nobody wanna die Life's too sweet to pass by Lookin at the hourglass, I See how fast time fly I keep a strong will to live I be a old man with a lotta game to give I'll make the kids do somethin more positive Instead of bein like me, a thug or gee Tryin to stay up out the penitentiary I got a whole army, some r.i.p. Some stuck in a cell, some out on bail Some doin major fed time in jail I'm lookin at the world with hungry eyes Inner city full of jealousy and lies Hopin that the Lord'll hear my cries Help a young black male rise Enemies pose as friends Player never know when his life'll end Can't trust too many, can't cross the game Walk with my head down in the rain Think about greed, some disease Cause everybody rappin still gettin cheese Some think about the pain that they inflict And some don't think, just stack the chips [ CHORUS ] Everyone wan to go to heaven But nobody wan to die Mi say Everyone want a million dollar But nobody want to work Everybody want a million More jails, less schools for the children Invest in a penitentiary Makin money off niggas like you and me My God, it's the turn of the century I wonder what the game got in store for me Will it be a lotta seeds, my gees be free Or be six feet deep on the day of release? I can't stand it, lost in the game again Will I win? Nobody knows in the end I keep strugglin, pullin on the game of life Try to stay on my toes, up on the edge of knife I'm wakin up from the nightmares, who cares? God, I heard death comin up the stairs I got the past still hauntin me Still knowin how my enemies want me You never know when it's time to go The blind lead the blind If you don't know the game, get left behind No love, hold up, what you thinkin of? Youngsters on the corner goin dub for dub You can't tell em, cause ain't nobody payin em mo' Lost in the thug life, gone for sho' Too many young players six feet in the flo' As another one goes as modern-day hero [ CHORUS ] To other rappers that rose out the concrete, stay strong Have faith in God, it won't be too long, hold on Never lose faith in dreams Watch the next people, they canive and scheme A cold world, ghetto kids born to die Some fall in the game without a chance to fly In too deep, can't escape the drama Too much drama for a young player, young timer Pushed in the game at the age of 12 Hangin on the block, all about the mail It's hard livin, somebody gotta lace the young Before they get enough rope to leave theyself hung Hardcore livin in the projects (projects) Hustlers schemin for the profit (profit) Mo' cash comes in and go fast Toe-tags, dead homies in bodybags Where it stops, nobody knows I'm paranoid, is these enemies or foes? Can't call it, sleep with a open eye This world'll make you laugh, it'll make you cry Stay real, keep a strong mind and strive Cause what it boils down to is stayin alive Nigga strugglin, keep your eye on the game And never stay the same, things always change [ CHORUS ] |
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| 16. |
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(feat. Method Man)
[Method Man] Yeah, play times over motherfuckers Spice 1's defiantly in motherfuckin' effect You know what I'm saying? bringing it to all you bitch ass niggaz So raise up and recognize, and understand that this brother is hard to kill {Spice 1} I'm running this niggaz off their block Taking their shit kicking it to the bitches People cant lift off your spot I'm leaving your shit all up in stitches Nigga Bullets go through the door I'll shoot you and that ho Got a cap for each nigga fucking with my cash flow Pid cap, be love cap pid Because in the neighborhood cause still kill at will. Gotta keep on my pistol on tight Slanging sugar delite That china white got these niggaz killing each other tonight Sometimes a turf is like a war zone Or even Vietnam, not at the movies but you still see the died come And a nigga catch a slug, caps' be pulled for fun foo You got to watch your shit before we pull a ak on your own blood Se niggaz will stick you for your cash That's when they enter the t-shirt contest to super soak their ass So Method Man show these niggaz the deal Let these motherfuckers know that your hard to kill [Method Man] Who dat nigga? You on with me with the super fly Methtical nigga Who want to die? For year nigga Wow, even try to test sides Challenger your the bird with my 45 cabolar Can it be that this is the S.P.I.C.E. 1 and the method motherfucka With the guns blazing? You trail, my god, its amazing Where your punk at? Nightmares like Wes Craven The bigger the critter, the harder to pull the trigga I'll send your ass back to the dark side nigga Your a snake, I've seen you sliver, so I deliver with death We'll throw your punk ass in the river On the battle ship I'm the captain Beat that ass bloody as I send it to the camp. Tical! Chorus S.P.I.C.E. come to be hard to killah, hard to killah, hard to killah. S.P.I.C.E. come to be hard to killah, hard to killah, hard to killah. S.P.I.C.E. come to be hard to killah, hard to killah, hard to killah. [Spice 1] Blah! These motherfuckers nutz if you want to murder me Harder to kill than your average motherfuckin' G Rollz with the uzi with that shit that will make your body drop Cause if your shot, tic toc and you don't stop Nigga, down for my strap niggaz on their back No rat-tat-tat so its on the map Died come again, coming straight out of my jaws Got these niggaz screaming out paws Pistol grip and breaking out their jaw Yeah, so you don't want to fuck with me Many niggaz out there to go nuts with me And even on your block smoke them like a fucked up bell Cant be caught by no Po-Po's cant be put in no slammer I don't be fucking with no snitches Aint no body going to tell, leave your dick in the dirt And yo momma as well New York to Cali niggaz are hard to kill Shit is too real, your a ignorant mutha fucka If your not riding with your steal Chorus S.P.I.C.E. come to be hard to killah, hard to killah, hard to killah. S.P.I.C.E. come to be hard to killah, hard to killah, hard to killah. S.P.I.C.E. coming from the bay area, bay area, puffing carea. S.P.I.C.E. coming from the bay area, bay area, puffing carea. 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 1-8-7 Outro: Spice 1 Capping your ass for the 94, what you know? Grab your glock Blah! Me burst out first 'Mon We Audi 7000 G |
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| 17. |
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I once knew a nigga named Endo Weed
Used to hang out with killers slang Ice and Speed Speed had a little bitch named Mary Jane Who had a brother named Coke and he carried a cane Coke and Endo two big macks Coke had a grenade, told Endo catch Doin' it just for fun best frinds don't gank You catch 'em kickin' it at the park a lot fuckin' wit Dank Dank was real just a hardcore nigga Shot his bitch up cause she drank all the liquor Seen him at the park drinkin' 40's last week Did a drive-by on some niggas in a Jeep He shot up Heroin and P.C.P. Some niggas from a clique called L.S.D. These niggas wasn't playin' they got straight to the point Shot up his mothers house col' smoked the joint All he left was two brothers by the last name Doobie Two midget ass gangsters both strapped both nuttey One had the nine and the other had the 4-5 When they did a ht it took 'em both to drive Didn't use nuttin' fast like a Vette or a Jag Did a drive-by in the mutha fuckin' drop top Zig-Zag Coke and his sister Mary Jane On Marijuana block drinkin' 40's to the brain And wadn't trippin' off the gunshots Cause on Marijuana block no one calls the cops The mutha fuckin' murder rap got you keyed for sure Cause it's 187 PURE- check it out (cut) Endo smoked 'em all Sessame street, where Coke pimped ho's with a glass pipe And got paid green at midnight Wadn't no more Hennessey So the cops had ta roll up Sess. for me Officer Taylor with the high beams Talkin' that gang shit strapped wit a dope screen Ran up on Coke and Jane Fucked up Coke and beat him down with his own cane Said you better quite fuckin' with Dank Cause if you don't I'll turn your ass to crank And smashed off on a speedball Cause he just got the Doobie brothers drive-by call Dank hit the corner something caught his eye That sexy ass black bitch Chocolate Tye She was thick and rich, bitch couldn't be cuter Had nice brown eyes and a big round budda Took her to the 'tel didn't pull no stunts Told the bitch he was fuckin', the nigga was quite blunt The mutha fuckin' murder rap got ya keyed for sure Cause it was 187 PURE- check it out (cut) This is your brain on - Endo smoked 'em all Sssss sss cof, god damn Ssssss ssss this that real shit, damn Cof, cof, cof, cof god damn boy Where the fuck you get this from, 73rd, Shit |
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| 18. |
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(Chorus): 2x
So you wanna be a playa So you wanna be a G So you wanna be a gangsta (2nd time: player) But you don't wanna fuck with me (Verse 1): Diamonds up on the pinky rolexes up on the wrist Take a good look at this old pimpin' ass Nigga you ain't never seen a Mack like this It's the Thug in me Niggas be walkin' round muggin' me ruggin' me Tell your bitch to give me my dick back She pullin' me and tuggin' me Can't be fuckin' round with you cluckhead bitches Don't need no fixin' rubbers Just like my timin' ass partner (E-)40 say Punk bitch y'all burn rubber If that bitch can't swim then nigga she bound to drown What's up with you old ratched mouth ass bitches Tryna talk down on me and the town You bitches better recognize this is 187 proofer Mobbin' out the cut with a fat A.K. and a black on black Lex Luther Ain't no ?? up in this ?? just shut em down crush nasty Right now I'm kickin' this pimp shit but you ho's know I'm the last G In sticky situations will have bust with no hesitation You punk ass niggas don't know my background You just stuck on that player hation Why a nigga wanna talk bad on a timer who been down from the Get Go I can smoke a blunt up in my hot tub don't be trippin' off that old shit though (Chorus): 2x (Verse 2): You niggas ain't never seen me in person tryna assassinate my character Talkin' bout Spice ain't got no paper Bitch I'm a nightmare livin' in America Ain't no paperbag ass nigga hoe I done been through some shit Niggas walkin' round out here I wanna kill Wanna kill me too that's real Punk ass niggas they know who they is runnin' round talkin' shit Oh, fuck that punk ass nigga Spice 1 he ain't nothin but a bitch But one of these days I'ma have your ass chopped up in the back of my Benzo Mobbin' to this old gangsta shit right here smokin' on some of that Indo Too many fuck you bitches up in the game niggas be puttin' too much on it Born and bred to be a Thug ass nigga 2 fingers on 2 twin Glock triggers I know the game ain't got no rules and they got been laced Damn, if so many muthafuckas didn't know my face I would've been offin' you playa hatin' ass niggas a long time ago Would've seen you filled up with slugs would've seen you dyin' real slow But you know what I ain't trippin' off that old shit Cause y'all niggas ain't worth my riches Go head and sit around and chatter my name out I lace more punk ass bitches (Chorus): 2x |
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