What's wrong ^!$$%? What's wrong huh?
You scared ^!$$%? You scared?

What, you can't talk with a mother$#&@in' gun in your mouth ^!$$%?
I'm gonna give you a three count
I'ma blow your mother$#&@in' brains out

One, what you think about, what you thinkin'?
I'm proud, two (kinda slick mother$#&@er)



Nineteen mother$#&@in' nine-fo' comin' at cha
Gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gangsta Spice mother$#&@in' 1



I eat they $$# up like a Swason with the Thompson

fo'-fever, leave a - mother$#&@in' crime 'fore he take his last breather
So come along take a trip to the dirt track
Where the young ^!$$%s be takin' your car and be peelin' your cap back

That's why it's A to the mother$#&@in' yay
keeps a fat gat for the funk in the East Bay
mainly off gat, I'm goin' brain dead inside

Talkin' to my homies 'Scratchy' tellin' me he wanna ride
on the ^!$$% that peeled his cap so now I'm on the streets
With the dead mother$#&@er in the passenger seat

And it's fo' to the mother$#&@in' five
G-a-gat that $$# leave 'em dead in the ives
Red Rum on the late night, catch my case right at the crack hut

^!$$%s better back up, while I fix my sack up
Pistol whip, %#@!, kick that $$# quick
Quick to rip %#@!, cause I'm a Coca Cola Classic

O.G. and D-Boyz got love for me, D-Boyz got love for me





Da-tha-tha-da-tha-tha-da-tha-tha-da-tha-tha

Da-tha-tha-da-tha-tha-da-tha-tha-da-tha-tha



I'ma chuck a dead body on your mother$#&@in' lawn
like jump like Red gone, ^!$$% I'll be ready the funk is on
So call up the Paramedics and tell 'em that you're dyin' ^!$$%

I roll strapped with no love upon my $#&@in' trigger
I lets my hair platt, and took his mail stack
Now he's a stiff black, cause I was at that

I'm dumpin' these ^!$$%s in ditches back to back
Hangin' they $$# from telephone posts
to leavin' 'em makin' 'em bleed without no money

Gun me, hoe ^!$$%s wanna do that, do that
But I go out and get a new gat, new gat and let 'em have it


^!$$%, so D-Boyz got love for me



I got love for D-Boyz, cause D-Boyz got love for me
I got love for D-Boyz, cause D-Boyz got love for me
^!$$% got outta line I had to chop him

Reached into my draws and pulled out my strap (pull out your strap)
Mother$#&@er got outta place I had to chop him
Reached into my fudadalooms and pulled out my strap (pull out your strap)

^!$$% got outta place, youse got to pop him
Reach up in your draws and pull out your strap (pull out your strap)
Rookie get outta line you better ice him

Reach into your d-dun-dun-duns and pull out your strap (pull out your strap)
Just call me Chef Boyardee-Boy, soda for bakin'
Cupcakes and cookies, rappies I'm makin' huh

Tall cash, can't let eat up my grass
Don't make me have to come back and split your parents house in half
with my 6RP226-Diana Ross cousin Nina - Mr. Meaner, body bleeder

Heartless, empty the cartridge roll
Smartless, get out and die so cold
Hollow point hot ones dipped in garlic

I lives up the bar like an Alcoholic
^!$$%s think that I be bluffin' when I tell 'em I'm a good shot
But I'm also into some other things like ice picks and piano strings

So (*##$, I'm tryin' to get nickerage
Open up shop, cotton candy and liquorice, uh


Shoot 'em up now

Blaow! Spiggidy one whippin' up on dat $$# for nine-four
Da-tha-tha-da-tha-tha-da-tha-tha
Shoot 'em up now, byd-a-bye-bye
Blaow! (Spiggity sp, sp, spiggity sp, sp, spit ^!$$% hahahahaha)
They call me Spiggity one, Spiggity one

Me bust a cap up in your $$# with big black gun, byd-a-bye-bye
Chill man, me roll down the block with my ^!$$%
Byd-a-bye-bye, Spiggidy one whippin' up on dat $$#
Chill man, livin' in the city is a mother$#&@in' task
(What's a 7-0-7 on er... your trunk ^!$$%?) 5-10

(4-1-5's?), yeah (That's four-fifteens if y'all (*##$es didn't know)
Yeah (*##$, stupid $$# hoes
(Da-tha-tha, sing it with me, da-tha-tha-da-tha-tha, ah yeah)