Testi musica canzoni

Verse One: E-40I'm really not all that surebout when things is finna matureSo let me find me a nigga with a gripand hit his ass quick with one of them whoops(What's the definition of a lick?)Taking a niggaz shit(Hey put that on sumthin)I put that on The Click, The ClickBack to fuckin work one of the homies jus got dustedTime to do some dirt, uhh, I never trustedthem bustas shot him in the shirt, dead on arrivalNow the town is funky, it's called survivalWhat y'all wanna do? They got us scuffled(bullet high, get in your eye) if this was a fifth well I be drunkI'm heated, them niggaz cheated, played me falseWe had em eatin, shit 'posed to been squashedI noticed one killa on the double dribble and set him up y'allShe likes the Monie in the Middle, play tetherballThick ass bitch, high yellow city-slickerScarecrow creepin Southern bitches, aka Posie PussyfictiousVerse Two: Spice-1Nigga been holdin guts, but shit on hisself and a funky billPullin out bills, frontin on material shitthat's when I get to killin shit (killin shit)And settin 'im up and havin 'im catchin a couple of slugsSl-uh sl-uh slugs, trynta fuck with savage thugPistol pop in they ass, see niggaz be gettin this twistedIt's that bitch that killed yaTook all your money peeled yaSeven niggaz bust in the room with AK'swhile a nigga be puttin on his jimmyAll of a sudden they shoot up your Vuittonbefore you can hit the broccoliSee money-a-made that nigga, that nigga didn't make that moneyLeft them niggaz jacked up, and the bitch she macked himHe's a busta, punk ass nigga, y'all know the streetsThat's why that nigga naked layin dead in between some bloody sheetsIt's just a part of the game he didn't feelBitches will kill, fuck a nigga, out his last d-uh dollar billYou don't know that hoe main that bitch can't be trustedDusted and di-motherfuckin-sgustedChorus: E-40 Some cold hearted shit Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dustedWhacha'll wanna do, whacha'll wanna do Cold hearted bitchesBack to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dustedWhacha'll wanna do, I never trusted them bustas Some cold hearted shitBack to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dustedI never trusted them bustas And it's them cold hearted bitchedBack to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dustedDusted and disgustedVerse Three: E-40, 2PacLet's let of some two or threes on the other side of t-uh-townDraw the attention on the other s-uh-side of town (other side of town)And wait for the po-po shift to change, ghetto shootin rangeRevenge on the r-uh-rebound, war gamesDroughts, out, shhh lost clientele but I will prevailby sellin the broccoli dank instead of the crack cocainetry not to steal narcoticsWhen these punk MC's and bitches be the reason whythe smoke be comin up out the chow, with my nigga PacDear God, can you forgive me? My future's lookin sickI'm in my rag hittin switches I'm suspicious of these bitchesI keep on, calllin, but ain't nobody pickin upI think she's stallin, this evil bitch is tryin ta set me upCame all alone if it's on then it's onWhere's my motherfuckin chrome, only jealous niggaz roamIt's a war zone (war zone) but I'm a man so with gun in handI'm on my way to see this hoe you know the fuckin planCan't understand, but the things ain't the sameYou could die over these bitches if you slippin in the gameNiggaz gang bang, but bitches gang bang tooGive up that good thang, and put that pistol to your brainIf you was smart figure, don't have no love in your heart niggaAny complications pull the trigger, dusted and disgustedBitches can't be trusted, you know the rulesThey underhanded, she planned it, you fuckin fool(These hoes out here tryin to hold a nigga's heart So a nigga get his money fucked with Almost in-laws)Hey be proud of it when you turn these bitches upside downWhat's gonna happen(Uhh, three and a half dollars or probably fo' if a bitch ridin)(Yeah main, them hoes talented They be fuckin with mo' MC's at Jack the Rapper)(Aight fuck it, what you say Mall? Ay, fuck them sheisty ass bootches, nigga)Verse Four: Mac Mall, Spice-1, E-40The California lifestyle that I liveWhere the bitches is crooked and niggaz jus don't giveA flyin fuck, so I stay stuck, smokin on the tay-lowBay Area playa, tryin ta have shit majorAnd a bitch won't save yaso I ain't playin Captain Save a HoeI mob up in ya like a pro and then I'm goneI'm like Sylvester Stallone, everyday is like a CliffhangerAction packed, I let the mini-mac smack that assThem hoes jacked that assNigga woulda got smokin on that hashCan't have my cash, better go and take your nigga stashCuz he's a busta, niggaz with clustersSlippin in shit, betta jack that nigga 'fore I jack his ass bitchNever was no love for the mark-ass, the lo pink (the lo pink)You love them Bootsy bitches, can't let them pussy bitchesgank that ass, betta hide your cash and check her fastPump your brakes nigga, slow your roll don't go too fastCause bulletproof ain't doin no good no mo' no mo' no mo' no mo'now, niggaz comin up dead with they brains blew out on the fuckin floordamn, hollow points to flesh tears through the teflon vestNow r-uh-restPull a plug on a flatline over those, one nigga lessOne nigga less, from coast to coast, to the East to the WestCrushin the flesh, dem bitches played a game of deathLook over your shoulder watch your back don't even trust itI'm tryin to told ya end up dustedChorusmore