I'm sick up in this game I'll take no muthafuckin' shorts & slam dunk these riddles up in yo' ass like Jordan Menace II Society muthafuckin' killer just call me the East Bay Gangsta I'm yo' real ass nigga Quick to make decisions & I'm quick to get my blast on Do a 187 with this muthafuckin' 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, nigga slangin' 'Cola since the very very start much love for this game so a nigga gots no heart
Ain't no love bitch A nigga 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 murdering muthafuckas & 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 nigga 187 is a art 'cause a nigga gots no heart
Ain't no love bitch A nigga gots no heart Ain't no love bitch
Me shootin' him up me shootin' him up if he no give my pay Ain't no love bitch [repeat]
[Verse 3]
A nigga 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 nigga 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 up in that nigga left his body full of hollow tips so I know he won't be comin' back I let my mail stack & let my hair platt But my sweet sweet Sunday had to turn tart his posse came & them niggas 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 man comin' at yo' ass wit no love Blam! Fuck ya man Pussyclot man 187 thousand GTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
