hustlin'

kurupt

yeah

nigga

nigga

no disrespect to you east coast

the west coast we got heat too

we gon' keep it real g'd up

okay

if i don't make it rappin it's back to jackin

back to the click-clackin and the khaki jackets

i'm a rider

dat's why i got that tat

and a provider

jazz got a lot i ain't had

i'm a survivor

screwdriver

cracked steering column

every event

book bag

gat at the bottom

i'm convinced

that my common sense intensify

now i'm convinced it's

hoppin over fences

six in de mornin you know they kyan't find no mo-ney

mo-ney

get money haffi feed my whole fami-ly

fami-ly

it was because i load 'n buck gyal you know she a scared for me

for me

because the tussle an' the hustle an' it rough and to be me

be me

pistol's my specialty

and uh

i'm a gangster

my specialy

and uh

fire i let it fly and toss

and uh

i'm a boss molotovs get tossed

and uh

hey girl

what the fuck's the deal? and uh

you want the fake girl

or you want the real? and uh

sixty-four chevy's all on d's

and uh

overdosin to west coast mc's

and uh

and you be thinkin you got me but you ain't got a thang

niggaz claimin they bangin but they don't really bang

since i opposition position switch the game

pistols whistle while missiles'll chip a niggaz frame

i'm a pistol popper

88 candy-painted cadillac dropper

tanqueray and vodka

one-nine or thirty-eight

tec and a chopper

infrared hollow pointed tucked in my boxers

i'ma keep it gangster y'all

fuck what the rest say

keep a lot of dope and coke

like an ese

so please pay attention

this street shit is serious

my niggaz leave you bleedin like bitches on they periods

contact your label

bring your best artists-es

nigga we started this

verbally retarded shit

entourage rider

we eatin budweiser

throw away thirty-eight

brand new fo'-fiver

break 'em down nigga

gotti

nigga what

please let's roll these suckers