Spice 1

Dere's no time for dem future
Come short wit me 9 milimeter
Body beater, doesn't pick up
Fully automatic collar point beater, uhh (x2)

Another whole fuckin clip and break down a nigga body, don't
think I'm bad, no boxin and no karate
Just a down ass nigga that you think you know
But you don't know is that I like to see you die real slow
So pull that motherfucker out and you'll be buried somewhere
S-P-I-C-E-1 of niggas' worst nightmare
I set the game from the killers I knew back in the past
and I'm tellin you if you fuck with me it's a slug for your ass

Ain't no more pilin up your faeces
cos niggas be actin like bitches
Pull a strap and don't use it, nigga that ain't smart
I know some niggas that'll take that kind of shit to heart
like me, bring it back e'rybody die
Spread fireworks make it look just like the 4th July
Have a sit, leave it laminated on the shelf
even though I'd rather do the shit by myself

*Why you wanna funk when you ain't gotta chance
Don't make me have to make that call, aah-aah
Why you wanna go and pull a strap up out'cha pants
when you know you ain't gon' shoot at all, no no

Things are kinda cruel on the streets
Shit, ain't nobody really tried to fake me
But it seems nobody wants to fuck with me
Why is that? I had no son enemies
I got rid of every last motherfucker
for the simple fact I can't trust a
Nathan in this motherfuckin outfit
You come my way so ya have to die bitch

I make em lay down, I gotta playground full of hardhead
beanie-capped, triple fag goose wearin
wanna catch me loose starin at a barrel
Chances get narrow when I'm maskless, bearin thangs set to blast this
Enemy provider, fool I'm a ridah wit a driver
Keep the Uzi click switched on saliva
Neither you or crew that you pumpin
wanna see the Big Dogg about nuttin

Flow-a-matic automatic nigga to my 9
Paper chasin, I'm heavy on the mine
Every now and then a nut feels a bit dainty
Hoes by the dozens they really can't stand me
Swing my way you get your dome sprayed
Nigga who wanna fucked around and became my best friend
Every now and then I yell "Get the urge to floggy!"
like every now and then I yell "Call my daddy 'Boss'!"

*Repeat

Eminate 'money over hoes', mistood a man named
"Xena spokes and vogues"
Go on a rampage, beanie, smokes and clothes
Drunk as a funk, Wild Irish Rose Graveyard don't track, nigga might
as well
Put in some overtime, make that scrilla, get some el
Late night, greedy gut, major clientel
Money-hungry, same draw, same rapper will

Blaow! Biddy-bye-bye-bye-bye S-P-I-I-I-I-I
love to do a d-d-d-drive-b-b-by
Reach out, reach out and touch a motherfucker
with my nickel plated chrome, have you foamin at the mouth
When I fill your ass to the rim like brim
I got slugs for you, one for you and one for all of them
How could you play me like a bitch, I ain't no sucker
I put slugs in nigga's arms, chests, legs motherfucker

*Repeat

Why you wanna go and pull a strap up out'cha pants
when you know that you ain't gon' shoot (x2)

Evil lurks in the mind of mad men
I have to call Spice 1 to put in work

[Spice 1]
Yeah straight motherfuckin East Bay killa in the house
Spice motherfuckin 1
[blam] That's how you do it!
You just mobb up on a nigga and shoot him in his MOTHERFUCKIN HEAD
And drag him out the car, and get your MOTHERFUCKIN mobb on
Yeah.. motherfuckin G shit jumpin off tonight
Motherfuckin fire, beotch!!

Kill em off like dis, biddy-bah-bah-bye-bye
S-P-I-C-E-1 dem say him Born II Die, BLAOW
Kill em off like dat, biddy-bah-bah-bah-bang
S-P-I-C-E-1 dem say him ?? ??

[Spice 1]
My gat scream fire
The bullet told me shoot that motherfucker he's a liar
I talk to my 380 like a bitch on the stroll
When niggaz try to dick me I haul off and let her hoe, KILL EM ALL!
I can't be fucked in this game, I'ma psychopath
My AK, told me to shove him up some niggaz ass
I'm havin long conversations with Mr. Millimeter
He's one of my best friends, bitch-ass nigga eater
And Missus Mossberg, livin up in that back trunk
You know that old school bitch, she like to get in funk
It's splittin motherfuckers by the seams
My grandaddy Mr. AR-15
Said he was my only family
Shoot straight, and please don't jam me
My own Glock pistol-whipped me in my fuckin head
Cause he said, I wouldn't buy the infrared
Got in a fight at a club, my gat started walkin
Told me to shut the fuck up and let him do the talkin
I woke up, and it was sick to see them guts
From my strap tell me Spice motherfucker, you're Born II Die

One to the chest and one to the dome
Well if them niggaz catch you slippin then yo' ass is gone (Born II Die)
Aim yo best for the head so yo' brains get blown
Well if them niggaz catch you slippin then yo' ass is gone

Kill em off like dis, biddy-bah-bah-bye-bye
S-P-I-C-E-1 dem say him Born II Die, BLAOW
Kill em off like dat, biddy-bah-bah-bah-bang
S-P-I-C-E-1 dem say him ?? ??

[Spice 1]
Legal Glocks and Barettas and the Uzi thangs
And if the shit jump off I'm killin everythang
Don't be actin like no bitch when the funk is on
Cause if them niggaz catch you slippin then yo' ass is gone
One for the Glock, two for the clip
Bullets in yo' ass make you hop and skip
Niggaz who ride, strap on the side
Open up your chest bout THIS fuckin wide
This ain't no TV, you don't wanna see me
I split your cranium so motherfuckin easy
Leavin you bloody dead and shot
My Glock goosed up your body like the motherfuckin dreadlock
So get yo' ass home 'fore you catch some slugs
Brain runnin down the drain like the L.A. floods
Don't be fuckin with the S-P-I
I'm tellin you motherfuckers I was Born II Die

One to the chest and one to the dome
Well if them niggaz catch you slippin then yo' ass is gone (Born II Die)
Aim yo best for the head so yo' brains get blown
Well if them niggaz catch you slippin then yo' ass is gone

Kill em off like dis, biddy-bah-bah-bye-bye
S-P-I-C-E-1 dem say him Born II Die, BLAOW
Kill em off like dat, biddy-bah-bah-bah-bang
S-P-I-C-E-1 dem say him [??] [??]

[Spice 1]
One-eighty-seven Crew ass nigga from the Bay
AK spray, beat your dead body as it lay
On the concrete die in one beat of the heart
Seven day old ass body smell a little tart
Pull up to your bumper with a fully loaded magazine
Robbin your motherfuckin ass clean
Blow the heart out a motherfucker back
Nigga shit on hisself, when I pull out my strap
Got a chrome fo'-five, bout nine in the clip
In two ?? days, begin to mobb and dip
It's just another tale of some gangsta shit
Where niggaz murder in the first from a verse that spit
Bitch-ass niggaz, expire, retire
Stab him in the throat with the Dayton spoke wire
So don't get caught up in the mix
I, let you motherfuckers know quick, I'm Born II Die

One to the chest and one to the dome
Well if them niggaz catch you slippin then yo' ass is gone (Born II Die)
Aim yo best for the head so yo' brains get blown
Well if them niggaz catch you slippin then yo' ass is gone

Kill em off like dis, biddy-bah-bah-bye-bye
S-P-I-C-E-1 dem say him Born II Die, BLAOW
Kill em off like dat, biddy-bah-bah-bah-bang
S-P-I-C-E-1 dem say him [??] [??]

[Spice 1]
Yeah nigga
Straight walkin up on a motherfucker
And takin his shit with a AK-47 nigga
Get yo' shit cause it's on
Tell you hoe you gon' be back
Uhh, nigga gon' give up his shit
Or he gon' catch a motherfuckin slug
Yeah, you gon' catch a motherfuckin slug
Uhh.. Spice 1 in the motherfuckin house
Straight killin em all, BLAOW!

Hehehahahahahahahahah
Hahahahahahahahahahaha
Ahahahahahahahaha!! Motherfuckers!

Rolling with my motherfucking strap on the side of me
Don't fuck with the East Bay G

..Repeat three more times

Buck 'em down with the clip and the trigga
Screaming like Eiht yelling come on niggaz
Nappy head muthafuckas in a coupe Deville
Lightin shit up like Fire Marshal Bill
You see I hops on the flo like my nigga Dominoe
And get a big fat sack of yay-ay
A key or a half a muthafuckin thang
Pistol whip a nigga with an AK-ay
Peep this lodi dodi I shot up his body
Left his ass bloody in the front of the party
Yi-a-yi-a-young nigga rollin up out the cut
Do a drive-by with the feds on my nuts
Niggas be gettin gatted when they step to this Geezy
I pulls my motherfucking Uzi
And spill his brain *spill his brain*
Spill his brain *spill his brain*
I Spill his brain in his muthafuckin lap
I pulls a jack *pulls a jack*
Pulls a jack *pulls a jack*
And shoot the heart out his muthafuckin back
I come with 187 not with that ho shit
So nigga spark up the bomb so we can blow shit

...Repeat intro 2 times

Comin up on they ass like Tales of the Crypt then
Uz-stang swallow that ass like Lipton *nigga*
And now they try to wonder and figure
How the fuck Charles Manson turned his self to a nigga
Ba-a-blast on they ass with the holes in the barrel
Bullets fly in they chest like a muthafuckin sparrow
Cause we get like Steven King bodies swing from my ceiling
Opens up the chest when it's time for the cap peeling
9-4 hit the do' with a fat gat
Comin like this break em down like that
The nigga with the plats and the fat crack sack
Po pos on my back blow they ass off the map
With the 187 mad man killa
Spill a nigga guts for the fuck *cause I be*

...Repeat intro 4 times

It goes one for the trouble but you don't wanna floss
Unless you wanna flex with my bitch Nina Ross
Ga-a-gat that ass with the double deuce derringer
From the bay area the pall bearer
6 niggas carry ya momma in hysteria
Walk up to your mutherfuckin coffin and I stare at cha
Cause you're a dead muthafucka black
And you never should have fucked with the 187 FAC
So nick nack patty whack give a G a gat
And put some bullets in that ass crack
Yeah break em down with the Mac
And like John Madden 93 BOOM he's on his back
Spice 1 is a muthafuckin trooper
So say what up to the East Bay Freddy Kruger
Blow the head off a muthafuckin cow
When my gat goes off like a M-1000
Take the hood off your hooptie when I bust a cap
Rollin with my muthafuckin strap on the side *peace to my muthafuckin nine

... Repeat intro 8 times

(E-40)
Ah fuck it
Ah y'all got your nigga E-40 in this motherfucker
I buzz I put a step in

(G-Nut)
Kickin it in the Fac house motherfucker

(E-40)
Ay, G-Nut, Spice, Xtra-Large

(G-Nut)
Let em have it

(Spice-1)
Went out the house I think it was a Sunday
Nigga was runnin with drop top drop havin a fun-day
Kickin it with my niggas up on the block
talkin shit drinkin "Crooked Eye"
I got the fat head rush from the chocolate Thai
I'm feelin good I wanna kick it and hang out
But when the drive-by hit this is the main route
What the fuck is my problem nigga?
I got a glock seventeen better gobble them
So why should I trip, load the clip, put the joint to my lip
Get the motherfuckin forty take a real ass nigga hit
I'm sittin on my gat thinkin shit is cool
Some niggaz roll up in an old school
I ain't trippin, ay 慓' you know this nigga's face
I heard the motherfuckin bass
of a sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Musty dead bodies and a catty bump, trump
Smellin up the neighborhood lyin in the bushes
Somebody had mo' mail than the rest of the pushers

(E-40)
Yeah, I'm just a hustler
Yeah, I'm just a hustler
Yeah, I'm just a hustler
Spice-1, you know some hoes gonna go boy
Look here ay look here
They got schemes and scandals out there right?
When that funk is on this here
Check fan, the motherfucker gotta be about
As greasy as gravy in order to maintain
So society is a motherfucker ain't it?
Ay, whatta bout those niggas on your dick nigga?
Ice spit some shit about that shit nigga

(Spice-1)
Get off my dick nigga get your own motherfuckers
steady mobbin gaffle the motherfuckers cause my jobbing
Shootin up motherfuckers was my hobby
Stop the tech-eleven on two-eleven I did a robbery
Shot the mothefucker is grenades that I'll be livin
Lowin the motherfuckers like a new pair of Levi's and
Used to think the cops were so motherfuckin friendly
Till they tied my cousin to a chair and broke his chin 慓'
My homies motherfuckin head like a melon
Slavery is (?????) of convicted felon
So dear Mr. Officer of the motherfuckin law
Rodney Kind don't need a trial what was seen was what was saw
You could take the niggas up out the motherfuckin ghetto
But you can't take the ghetto up out the motherfuckin niggas
Can't you hear the voice of the niggas comin at cha?
Fuck you Mr. President I think I wanna gat ya
I need mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the piles

(E-40)
I can't get enough, good, good
Good shit motherfucker good shit
I think I'm a little jet drunk motherfuck
Ay, look here ay I'm off this Liquorice Rainall boy
You understand that don't ya
Huh, you feel it
Ay, ay look here nigga, ay
What I want you to do boy, drop that ill shit

(Spice-1)
I'll make this gat sing like motherfuckin Mary J. Blige
And reminisce on havin a nigga's last breath when he slowly die
Stang his ass in the chest with the hollow
Capped him in his thr-thr-throat so he can't swallow
R-a-rat t-a-tat put a buck in y'all
The motherfuckin six-foot chucky dog
Comin to play with the trigger of the AK
Another real ass nigga from the East Bay
?W-E-L-L-T-E-P-R-O-O-F?
For the niggas who kid yourself by losin your fuckin death
Bloaw! Bloaw!
Cap, we do it just like that
Quick to put a motherfucker brains in his lap
Smokin up a blunt as I reminisce
of bloody body bags a motherfucker going nutty
Bloaw! Bloaw!
Po' bust a knowledge route
Brown, notify his family, fuck it, send his fingers home
Cause the shit get major, put the ?Montgomery? number upon his pager
Bitch don't fuck with me
I know a gang of niggas that will shoot it up with me
I need mo' mail than the rest of the pushers

(E-40)
It's the S-P-I-C-E with ya nigga E-40 (Erick Sermon)
Roll in to the curb and die
These motherfuckers don't understand this shit boy
This shit is so damn real man
Ay, nineteen ninety-tre-four-five
Ay, I got one of them

Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers

(Verse 1):
Now don't you run away from my Glock
You can't dodge 17 muthafuckin' shots
Could somebody pass me a clip and a trigger
Walk across the party pistol whip a nigga
Shiiit,
I'm comin' up at 'em with the .9's the Glocks and Macs
And they'll never breathe again like Toni Braxton
Cause I don't see nothing wrooong with a little bummper jack
So say "what up?" to the 1-8-7 FAC
Nappy head ass muthafuckas wearin' plats
Kickin' back like a muthafucka slangin' sacks
Ready to peel a nigga cap if they got the nap
So if you're funkin' with the FAC
Better to stay strapped
Cause we'll be comin' up at your back with the black Gat
Nigga, and you be feelin' kinda fucked up
When your homie drop, it's simple
You can't run away from my Glock

(Chorus): 2x
Doncha runaway
From my Nine
There's no place to hide
I'm gonna get you by and by

(Verse 2):
Spiggedy One kickin' dat ass with some lay back shit
The trigga-happy nigga, I figure
Niggas won't wanna step to me
If they know I'll be bustin' caps
I roll straps niggas take naps
Cause I don't be fuckin' around
When it comes to bustin' that steel
I'm too real, niggas feeel me
When I kick this gangsta ass shit that you never heard
But fuck what you heard
I smokes niggas like Herb
Put your ass smooth on ice
So nigga don't be 2 proud to beg
For your muthafuckin' life
Cause Nine Cali'll make 'em stutter
Make 'em drop, nigga
You can't run away from my Glock

(Chorus): 2x

(Verse 3):
Comin' like the Lench Mobb swingin' on a vine
Yellin' out peace to my muthafuckin' Nine
Pullin' my cap back ready to serve they ass
Givin' a fuck about what the next nigga done up in the past
Nigga, I like to let a nigga have a bloody body
Don't think I'm bad, no boxin' no karate
Just a big fat Gat for them suckas
I ain't scared of you muthafuckas
Shiiit, and nigga that's how it be
"Rollin' with my muthafuckin' strap on the side of me"
So don't come at me with that shit
'Bout you gon gaffle me up
I cock your cranium like the muthafuckin' Snapple and cut nigga
So keep your hand on your pistol grip
Bullets whistlin' and shit
Feel like a fuckin' missle when you hit
And I advice you to stay on alert
Cause if you funkin' with my niggas
You gon put in some work, nigga

(Chorus): 2x

(Outro):
Yeah nigga
You knew you couldn't fuck wid this G
Would you wanna step to me
Fo, hoe, haha
Spiggedy One whippin' on that ass
Ant Banks in the muthafuckin' house
My nigga Omar
That nigga knocked out muthafucka drunk and shit
This nigga Jamar lay down the muthafuckin' studio
Drunk than muthafucka
You know what I'm sayin'
But you know one thing
Everybody in this muthafucka's strapped
You know what I'm sayin'
And nobody comin' up short
So don't try to run away from my Glock
Can't dodge 17 muthafuckin' shots
1-8-7 thousand G

Chorus: Spice 1

Can you love a playa man
Can you love a playa man
Can you love a playa man baby
Can you really love a playa man

[Spice 1]
I twirl the wheel of my caddy with my middle finger
Bellin' up out the hooptie mobbin' with my pants sagin'
I smokin' on some of that Crush nasty with a G limp
It's the born to die the S-P-I
Playa status since an OG since Lee High
Sportin' a G hat with the short brim
Mr. giggity-gangsta hustler baller
Whatever you wanna calla
Straight playa up in this game
Puttin it down for all ya haters
Killin' ?m softly raisin' ?m off me
Keepin' it real so they can't fade me
Up in the 9-sick
I kick back and roll a Vega up
Rollin with the Hennesy
Champaign and Remmy up in my cup
Livin' like a baller but I'm still a G
Soakin up game in the East Bay street
Stackin that fetti S-P-I-C-E

Chorus

[Spice 1]
The game is deeper than Atlantis
So homie don't go in the water without your harpoon
You swimmin' at your own risk
Cuz in the bay ain't no parana
But you can get your body ate up
When you get to flossin up in that Lexus potna
Look what the tied washed in
That's what the people say
Spiggity One straight OG up out the dirty bay
Straight out the water
Finna wet you up and leave your body soaked with some of that redrum
So come on, come one and come on dem all
And watch them bodies fall
S-P-I-C-E comin' with that hard to kill a blow!
Smile in your face all the while they wanna take your place
I was strapped with a gun case
But now I'm back out on the paper chase
Spittin' ?m game
And I'm usin' my mouth piece like Ron O'Neil
The G from back in the day
They always say I spit the real
Keepin' these haters out of my pockets
And always watchin' my spine
The role of a playa is force and still looks out for mine

Chorus

[Spice 1]
S-P-I-C-E be stackin fetti fetti
See I be stackin' ballin'
Since way way back in the day
The bay area
My play area
Ain't no crips or bloods
But if you cross game then I'm gone carry ya
Up out the gangsta party quicker than you can think
Rolexes upon the wrist and diamonds on the pinky playa
Poppin' the cork on champaign
Hundred dollars a bottle
We roll in benzes and coups as if we won Lotto
Don't let me hear you talk bad about a playa name
Cuz if you get your scratch on haters gone do the same

Chorus

Verse 1:

My old school homey took a fall
His blood hit the mutha fuckin wall
Ran to the trunk and got the AK cause the funk was on
It felt like Christmas Day
I got a present and it come with a banana clip
Santa Claus mutha fucka meet the hollow tip
But let me get to the trunk so they fucked up
Now I? ?out to explode, niggas suckin chrome up
Kick down the door and started spraying
My nigga on the ground eyes wide open dead layin
Busted a nigga in the back rat-a-tat-tat
His blood hit the floor first, I heard his back crack
Sounds of a mutha fuckin murder the ghetto got me insane
to my damn brain
Never leavin the house without my glock nine
You can? stop crime, so I?a cock mine
The other nigga had a baby mack, and he was off the crack
He shot and missed and I shot back
But we both hit the floor, what the fuck for
I caught a bullet up in my chest and I didn? know
But the bulletproof vest was on G
so I kept buckin at his ass like a donkey
And when I tried to run and get out the pig put the glock to my mouth
As I was...

Chorus:

Runnin out da crackhouse out da crackhouse
(repeat 3X , 4th = runnin out da mutha fuckin crackhouse)

Verse 2:

Cop had his finger on the mutha fuckin trigga
Screamin some shit about a barbecued nigga
I had a pocket full of 慶ane and a bloody gat
I went insane when they blasted my cutty mack
He was my potna lackin (?????)
But I don? think he?l be alive for too much long
I dropped the glock with a puzzeled look on my face
cuz now I? stuck with the dope and fuckin murder case
they threw me in the car and told me they that wanted a cut
and if I try to get away a mother fucka stuck
excuse me officer but you can suck a nigga dick
he looked me in the eye and told his potna get the bitch
slobberin at the mouth, mutha fuckin K-9
put it in my face told me not to waste time
What? my name? Spice mutha fuckin ace
yelled fuck the pig, spit a loogey in his face
he let that goddamn K-9 go
me and that bitch had it out on the floor
it went on for five minutes or less, teeth marks on my mutha fuckin
neck and chest
he took me down to the county, I? seein?pictures of my niggas on the
wall for the bounty
I walked in with blood on my pants and niggas lookin at me like a black
Charles Manson
and I still had dope in my mouth cuz I? fresh out da crackhouse, out
da crackhouse

(Spice 1)
Yeah, what you lookin at, bwoy?
PH balance style

(Chorus: Spice 1)
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey

(Spice 1)
Hit the freeway in a 850 goin about a hundred and forty, sporty
Niggas slowin down as if they know me
owe me a Chronic session but I keep on mobbin' I got my own
Fiendin goin to the zone, rollin up I see a Vega loan
Watchin out for the po-po cause the gangsta braise alert the coppers
Smokin under them choppers O.G.'s see me and give me propers
They say whattup to the Easy Bay Gangsta each and every time
As I took my hat and light my Chronic up in the sunshine
I gets my mobb on just like all you other players
Lookin out for dead Presidents who want that green paper
Put out my doobie as I mobb up off the freeway
I'm goin side-a-ways, this way, that-a-way
I see my partners up in the alley fightin they pit bulls
High performance, old schools, with fat dulls
Catch me cussin at the cluckers on the street
tryin to stop myself from pullin out my heat, I'm mobbin' today

(Chorus: Spice 1)
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey

(Spice 1)
Po-po passin me up, lookin all inside my car
it's full of smoke, rollin down my window, they see me choke
And spit a loogie out on the street because I'm hella high
Rollin around, maddoggin with some Red Eye
Talkin slow and show them about which way to go
Just hittin corners, tryin to find myself a liquor store
Hustlers slangin on the stow-front tryin to make some ends
I'm gettin deals on blunts from the Iranians
They know my face cause I comin up at them every day
For some Hennessy and lemon squeeze a Alazay
Then I'm back on the streets drivin through the track
See fools fresh out the Penn, killers from way back
Hoppin out the hooptie chop it up with real ass O.G. homies
Jerk players only, cause ain't no time for fakes or phonies
Come catch a glimpse of a real player up in the Bay
Gotta get my pay okay, I'm mobbin' today

(Chorus: Spice 1)
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey

(Interlude: Spice 1)
Yeah I've seen up out there player,
runnin with a five hundred knowhatI'msayin?
850, guard be, knowI'msayin, somethin proper,
somethin fly, say knowhatI'msayin?
Get your mobb on you know, youknowhatI'msayin?
Or you can sweat these busters with their mean muggin,
player hatin youknowI'msayin?
That's all they is, get your mobb on man,
cause I'm gonna get mine on youknowhatI'msayin?...

(Chorus: Spice 1)
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop de doop de doop doo, doo
Mobbin' today, hey
Shoobedoop...

[ VERSE 1 ]
Smellin stale fresh out the county jail
Coppers gave me hell in a cell
But now its Mo' Murder to make mail
They thought my heart was playin life at a different pitch
But I stick to the scrip
Dump a snitch in a ditch
Its 94 I can't be fuckin around
Paranoia of a jack so I'm quick to draw down
The only way I gets my mail is to be off in your ass
With a AK or a Uzi screamin : Give me your cash nigga
So back the fuck on up
Cause can't nobody stop this nigga that's sellin the D that's raw and uncut
Fuckin over fiends laughin in their face
Sellin soap to niggas can die anyday
Niggas come short up in them jacks G
Another homie eyes wide open dead in my backseat
We never thought that they would get him
My nigga fought like a soldier we never knew that the bullet hit him
Thought to myself was cocaine with my homie's life
He picked the crime Do or Die now he pays the price
To look of struggle on his face with his Gat in his hand
My nigga died
With the face of a desperate man

[ CHORUS ] 2 X
So we can tease his face
We can tease his face
The face of a desperate man , Gyeah-man
Butabyebye butabyebyebang butabyebyebangbo
So we can tease his face when him smokin the endo
Butabyebye

[ VERSE 2 ]
Check motherfuckin 1 check 1-2
I gotta gets my mail thats what I gotta do
And don't nobody run up on me
Cause Franklin and Grant is my only motherfuckin homies
I made a deal with the devil and sold my soul
Threw up a O.E. at fourteen-years old
Young hog ass nigga never ever soft
Got me a strap and learned not to shoot my balls off
And all the youngsters sneakin pass the bottle
Because the G's , pimps and hustlers was the motherfuckin role model
And everytime we had a house party
Was just a chance for a nigga to see another nigga's dead body
And nobody stayed around for sequels
Cause the nigga that was bustin was spreadin'em bullets around equal
Now they mobbin
I'm seein sparks hearin shots
Pistol's pop
Another motherfucker flop
On the asphalt stuck by the foe-foe
Flatline ambulance put him in the doe
Loud screams from his homies yellin Imma smoke 'em
Feelin bad cause his partners on blood choke 'em
A touchin scene niggas screamin in the rain
Looked in his homeboy's face
His homie said his name
Now he'd be lookin for that nigga with the Gat and
Ready for that Redrum
With the face of a desperate man

[ CHORUS ]

94 is gettin hostile nigga
I gotta watch my shit mug on my face nigga hound-dog mean bitch
I'm muggin every nigga that be walkin by
Is it true can his hand be quicker than my eye
I'm wonderin if I gotta pull out my steel
Cause motherfuckers they can feel me they will look at me real
So , foe to the motherfuckin foe
If I have to let 'em know not to play me like a hoe
Cause I sticks to the G code
I unloads the clizzip and ease on down the road
1 and 1 Spice only
I do my dirt about my motherfuckin lonely ( by myself nigga )

[ CHORUS ]

94
Spiggedy 1 with up on that ass
Yeah
Mean muggin every nigga that ride by
Face of a desperate man nigga
I gots to gets mine
So if you try to take my shit
Quick to bust a cap in that ass
94
Bloooooow
Formally like that

(Prodeje)
Go on, remember that shit you was kickin off
Peace to my motherfuckin nine

(Spice-1)
Yeah I remember that old shit

(Prodeje)
So are you gonna kick some of that shit on your new album or what?

(Spice-1)
Yeah, I'm gonna kick some of that shit
But ah, partner I don't even fuck with the nine no more half

(Prodeje)
Man don't you know the Nina is the shit?

(Spice-1)
Motherfucker, one E-C-I-P-S is like a murderer
P-E-A-C-E to my motherfuckin nine servin ya
Cause I don't give a fuck who you are
Want an autograph bullet you can call me shootin star, nigga
I'm makin the murda shit to kick you in your ass a bit
380 puckin up on that ass come and test me bitch
You don't know who the fuck you're steppin to my nigga row
I'll bust a cap and leave that ass dead by the do'
My chrome is shining like new money and it's kinda funny
I keep one bullet up in the chamber (????) sunny
Five and a piggy dumb, dumb bullets to his hollow tip
Thinkin 187 proof nigga come take a sip
I'm sick, as fuck I'll do a drive-by in a black hearse
And leave yo in the street for homicide I think 380 burst
187 on an undercover P-I-G
They better duck when they see the chrome 3-AD
I'm thin as see I'm suicidal I don't give a fuck
So if my face wrinkle up everybody duck
I rush a nigga bust a bigger hole in his ass
Cause hollow tip will fight a booty hoe when I blast
The bullet fucked ya when I bucked ya it was instant death
187,000 g motherfucker rest
The nigga tried to flip and unload the clip, I did the gangsta shit

(Chorus: Spice-1)
380 on that ass bitch
B-Blast at 380 (everybody duck)
Niggas look crazy
B-Blast at 380 (everybody duck)
N-Niggas look crazy

(Spice-1)
Me hit the block with my 3-AD
Them niggas ballin lookin kinda shady
They owe me money and they better pay me
My shit will fuck up ya posse with the S-C-C
380 talkin to me tellin me blow a nigga back
So listen closely to the echo of the clap
Hit the motherfuckin blocks and my niggas
My motherfuckin niggas with they fingers on the triggers
So now I gotta smob and P-P-P-POP, POP
And buck with that 380 until a motherfucker drop
It's in my car boy slammed it on a under-tip
I used to kill a motherfucker for his blunted grip
I let my cousin use the shit to jack the Dana-Danes
A G-T-A with jackin nigga left the bloodstain
on the seat of the car he thought I was a star
said I was a studio gangsta so I shot his jaw

(Chorus: Spice-1)
380 on that ass bitch
B-Blast at 380 (everybody duck)
Niggas look crazy
B-Blast at 380 (everybody duck)
N-Niggas look crazy
B-Blast at 380 (everybody duck)
Niggas look crazy
B-Blast at 380 (everybody duck)
N-Niggas look crazy

(Prodeje)
So why you quit fuckin with the nine?

(Spice-1)
I got love for Nina G but she won't fit in my motherfuckin top

(Havikk)
Don't you know that nigga Prod and Hav fuck with the nine and the 380?

(Havoc)
I blow a niggas ass to hell that's why I bust so deep
I pack a fuckin 3-8-0 up in my motherfuckin sleep
I'll split your skull and mail your brains to your mama fool
380 leavin motherfuckers in a blood pool
So chase your skill better yet nigga run and hide
I do a nigga on the slide when I hoop ride
So nigga smilin eat the shells from the A-T-V
Or many yet build the caps down with the faculty

(Havikk)
I'm ready to kill a nigga, quick I'm ready to kill a nigga
187 ways to heaven when I drill a nigga
Then kill a daisy motherfuckers with the pistol grippin
They ass is trippin because the Nina gave that ass a whippin
The back-street way yard six feet digger
Loced out with the nine makin that ass shiver
The murders watch quickly smoked up
Buck, buck, block, block, bang, boom, boom niggas over

(Prodeje)
I'll grab your heart and squeeze the motherfucker till it bursts
And tie your corpse to the bumper of my homies hearse
I pack a nine but yo I'm down to pack a 3-8-0
And pump some motherfuckin slugs up in yo' anus hole
So punk ?look up? cause the S-P-I-C-E is strapped
And leave your brains pole sating in your fuckin lap

(Havikk)
The cartel is for the killers the Mobb piece rhymester giggy cap peelers
The giddily fuckin faculty the Prodeje the killers be the smokin nigga quicker
380's on that asshole nigga

(Chorus: Spice-1)
B-Blast at 380
Niggas look crazy (everybody duck)
B-Blast at 380
N-Niggas look crazy (everybody duck)
B-Blast at 380
N-Niggas look crazy (everybody duck)
B-Blast at 380
N-Niggas look crazy (everybody duck)

[ intro: roger troutman ]
Spice 1
Too $hort, yup
Said I'm a real playa, yeah

Real playa
Playa
Playa...

[ verse 1: too $hort ]
Whoever try to buy a new benz, spend money on your friends
Order up some shit with a pocket full of ends
Ain't no sympathy for suckers, bitch, I'm a hustler
For the last 12 years I could never get enough of
That cash, I keep it in my jeans, bitch
Have you ever seen it? a big pile of green shit?
When I spend it, bitch, I'm the man
I do what I want, suckers do what they can
That's why I moved to the a, straight from the bay
I'm still mackin bitches everyday, anyway
And if you don't like it, I don't give a f**k
I'ma still let my top down and turn this shit up
Nothin half on my business, keep gettin paid
If niggas stick together, maybe we'll live to see the day
When everybody keep ballin like me and my folks
Let these gold-diggin bitches count my spokes
Short dog in the house

[ chorus: roger troutman ]
Real playaz do what they want to
(real playaz)
Suckaz do what they can
(ha-ha, ha-ha-ha) (what they can do)
Real playaz do what they want to
(yeah, real playaz)
No time for strugglin
(real playaz, ha-ha-ha)
Real playaz do what they want to
(short dog)
Suckaz do what they can
(yukmouth) (yukmeezy) (thugged out) (fo' sheezy)
Real playaz do what they want to
Real thugz gon' hustlin

[ verse 2: yukmouth ]
Hop in the ranger rover, mob, thrustin this out my car
Shit better be hard, ghetto celebrity star
Smoke 'dro out of jelly jars
Boss to be fraud, catch me at the telly with broads
Havin menage-? trois, x-ed out on the celly with todd
"short dog, what's up? " he told me roger troutman passed
I hollered, my shit about to crash
Copped a block of hash, an ounce of grass
Damn! poppin crystal, poured me a glass
Then poured the whole rest of the bottle out on the flo' for yo' ass
This's for my nigga roger, the godfather of futuristic funk
Here's the ganja, get it crunk
Twist the skunk, hit it once
And keep that shit movin and
Thug niggas do what they want to, and busta niggas do what you're doin
I went from rags to riches, bagged bitches, jags and 6's
To droppin a solo album that's sellin more than the last shit did
I got the streets and ave's addicted
? ? ? swiss accounts, drunk as f**k in the stretch narrow strippers

Real playaz do what they want to
(real playaz)
Suckaz do what they can
(real playaz)
Real playaz do what they want to
(plow!)
No time for strugglin
(ha-ha-ha-ha, thugged out, fool)


Real playaz do what they want to
(real playaz)
Suckaz do what they can
(check it out, nigga)
Real playaz do what they want to
(plow!)
Real thugz gon' hustlin

[ verse 3: spice 1 ]
I've come from more bounce to the ounce to short dog and roger troutman
Yukmouth, we thugged out for the money and all the power
Real niggas do what they want to, suckers do what the f**k they can
Self-ma-made-mu-muthaf**kin-man
Poppin my collar, li-livin the hustler's dream
Ballers fiend for cream, pockets bust out the seams
Franklin and grant is my dogs, I die for em
(die for em) c-cry, lie, ride for em (ride for em)
Nigga, I know you heard it through the grapevine
I was out here doin it way too live
Doin way too much, I'm tryin to touch 40 million bucks
And flip a jet with some ? ? ? , about 14
Flop through your hood, bumpin this shit, smokin sticky green
Thugs be hustlin, muggin and puttin muscle in
No time for strugglin, keep your mind on bubblin
You can't see me through websites, but I still got 'computer love'
For my nigga roger troutman, cause he was ridin with real thugs
Nigga

Real playaz do what they want to
(immortalized)
Suckaz do what they can
(real thugs)
Real playaz do what they want to
(real playaz)
No time for strugglin
(westside, nigga)
Real playaz do what they want to
(immortalized)
Suckaz do what they can
(for life
Check it out, nigga)
Real playaz do what they want to
(plow!)
Real thugz gon' hustlin
(westside)

Real playaz
(immortalized)

Real playaz

Real playaz
Baby, baby, baby
Ooh yeah
Spice 1's a real playa, baby
Yeeeaaah
You gotta keep on
Don't you know
Don't you know you better watch yourself
You better watch yourself
You better watch yourself
You know you got to be...
Yeah
Don't you be trippin in em streets, nigga
Don't you be trippin in em streets, nigga
Spice 1 gon' tell you how it's really goin' down
Yeah

Real playa
Playa
Playa
Playa...