The Black Bossalini (a.k.a. Dr. Bomb From Da Bay)

Chorus:
I'll be a baller 'til i die
I'll be ballin' to my grave nigga, i die a paid nigga
I'll be a baller 'til i die
I'll be ballin' to my grave nigga, i die a paid nigga
I'll be a baller 'til i die
I'll be ballin' to my grave nigga, i die a paid nigga
I'll be a baller 'til i die
I'll be ballin' to my grave nigga, i die a paid nigga

Spice 1:
Some niggas be all up in my shit, you need to quit
Sprinkle a motherfucker that will leave you split
Tore back ass out bringing you your hat
Flat broke, talking about fuck that nigga s-p-i
But you can't go one on one spice 1 because i'm born
To die
I gets even up on they ass like punk bitches in ditches
The gangsterism resulting in murderism
Bailing up in your hooptie at the gas station
You facing the killer for real-a punk ass nigga
Where the scrilla
Jacking you for your shit, taking your ends pull off
My mask
Hitting the corner, hopping up in my benz with your
Cash
Mobbing i mash out, you ass out
Left you shot up in your seven-trey glasshouse
Because you don't know me like you think you do, i'm
Down for thefetty
Ready to die for them presidents, high powered and
Deadly
I ask to ball or not to ball, partner answer the
Question
I meet a nigga running up on my hooptie with smith
And wesson

Chorus

Yukmouth:
One time for your mind
Here to represent the pimps, playas, hustlas, ballers
All my niggas on the grind, packing nine millimeters
Nine lives like cheetahs, but your still in ???
Drug dealers peep the shit that i kick
Hustling, busting down zips making chips
If we ain't making it we taking shit
To the extreme hit the scenery with machine
Gun, get the creamery and ice cream, nobody scream
Nobody run, i come like point blank
Mobbing the motherfucking bank, looking like benjamin
Frank and itake
So many penitentiary chances, to make
Scrilla scratch niggas must have more stack in the safe
I mean ???, nigga your safe is my safe
And i'm gonna make sure that my safe ain't your safe
By putting a .38 up in your face
For running up in my place and shake the spot
And not expect to get your ass shot
Yeah, another one bites the dust, the shyster busts
Caps at your house
Matter fact, niggas don't like the yukmouth
About to l-u, didn't they tell you
I'm a youngster trying to have something like my
Nigga l-q
Ballin'

Chorus

Spice 1:
It's the motherfucking east bay g with the hundred
Clipper, savage thugnigga
See i was born with the lust for money, chrome plated
Triggers
Mob style haulering 187 up in your face
Put a gauge between your throat and tell you that
Your out of place
Motherfuckers don't be knowing we vicious and vicious
To get the cheese
More tickets to g's, cruises overseas
Can't be no punk about the shit that we're in
Got to be a soldier to the game or nigga you'll never
Get your dividends
Balling til i die, until i die i'll be a baller
Let my riders do the dirt and i'll be the shotcaller
Whatever i got to do for the lifestyle that'll pay
Them forever
Never slip stay on my toes nigga walk with the yellow
Stripe
But pull me back, because they cowards and shit
I be the nigga that take your drama and put a twist
In your the shit
Caps get slapped with steel, hot slugs will be your
Meal
Fucking around with my money is just going to get
Your ass killed

Interlude

Hook:
5-1-0 and 2-1-3 is you a baller or a g?

Spice 1 intro:
Ha ha ha. to thug or not to thug? to g or not to g? see that's the
Question. everytime i hit l.a. i get love you know cause i'm from the bay.
Dub c, big syke you know spice 1. feel me.

Spice 1:
Count the dollars on the lexy don't waste your time
Let it shine let it shine let it shine
Mizzolas and 850 flossin' i'm tossin'
Doobies up out the window smokin' often coughin'
Chokin' hard up off the indo smoke
My mens with extra clips hennessy lemon squeeze begin to dip on me
The g with the strap up on my side
Keepin' these haters apon they toes cause they know i'm ready to ride
Hide but you can't get away
This is your dead homie you should of put your tool away
But you still pull it on me, see i ain't trippin'
I got foot soldiers that do dirt for me
Love me enough to hurt for me and do some work for me
Black roses is sent to the families with all the lives lost
Kill 'em soft pay off my henchmen like a mob boss
Mobster ballin' out the hooptie
Who could it be? s.p.i.c.e.

Hook

Big syke:
Sound like baller i'm caught up in troubled times
Destiny knows help me free my mind
What can i do but stay true and be a man
I'm just doin' what i can
Migrate to oakland lay low with my dog spice
Hang out with killers and dodge device
Gotta pay the price took a life or maybe two (was it two?)
I wouldn't of done it if i didn't have to
In the wrong place at the right time evil minds learkin'
Thought i was over peerkin' searchin' for a home i feel alone
On these cold streets, sleepin' on couches with no sheets
God guide me hide me from incarceration and start this despiration
I'm facin' more time then i really got to give
Damn i wanna live in 2-1-3

Hook

Wc:
It's the dub s.c. on g parolee
And although deez steadily grinding for cheese
Trunk fulla keys on my way o.t. from 5-1-0 to the 2-1-3
I puts it down bendin' the corner with my all blue chevy
My mind on gettin' the fetti, my heater cocked back and ready
With g's crime related, affilated eyes faded
Big bodies paper plated stayin' shaded for federated
My crews full of nothin' but riders high off the remy
Chuck taylors neck pieces and knitted beenies (uh ha)
Mashin' on the regular hustlin' day and night
Went from chronic to water but now we pushin' the china white
Much loved by many but now by many hated
Trippin' off the the haters lookin' mad cause we made it
But don't get mad at me because i executed the game
I got my hustle on loc you can do the same

Hook

Intro: mack 10

Blaaaow blam 187
Straight murder display from la to the bay
Westside, my nigga spice 1 aka fetty chico
And i'll be mack 10 aka mack manson
What up spice

Spice 1:

We serving chickens you damn sure can't get at roscoe's
If you don't want to see no murder then keep your eyes closed
Nigga shake the dice up, roll 'em if it's one or ten
They won't be able to put your ass together again
Leave you in reece's pieces, rolling in white cornices
Knocking out teethes, i know where we can get the blackheads cheapest
From my homie down the street on the block
He copping everything from desert eagles down to them mini-glocks
If niggas fuck off the money we raise the murder stats
Me and my nigga mack 10 committing terrorist acts
You see us bailing don't mumble under your breath
Have the heart to say fuck you so i can put five in your chest nigga
Don't be no punk, i put my uzi where my mouth is
Yay under couches running out of crack houses
We down and dirty for the birdy thirty-five a sack
Nigga give up the stack it's fetty chico and the mack

Chorus:

Fetty chico and the mack
(murder murder) ma-a-mack 10 shooter, kill a man looter
Fetty chico and the mack
(murder murder) open up your mouth, say ahh, get
Ready for theblaaoow
Fetty chico and the mack
(murder murder) ma-a-mack 10 shooter, kill a man looter
Fetty chico and the mack
(murder murder) open up your mouth, say ahh, get
Ready for theblaaoow

Mack 10:

I'm in a murderous mindstate
I'm on so much dope and coke i can't even do my line straight
I smoke that ??? that shit put me in a trance
And since my last lp they start calling me mack manson
Now when i come around punks know they're gone
??? my pistol around and fall straight into a coma
So take if you want it that's my number one motto
Hitting licks like the lotto, with a four-five bottle
And assault rifles like rambo full of ammo
Dump a nigga in his chest and watch him bleed through his flesh
???...... chicken hawking
You kill a nigga, you kill his bitch so she can't talk
So i smoked the bitch and made it simple
I put one in her temple and got horny as a nympho
So with a hard dick and guns, a bad bitch dies
I take my two fingers and then i slowly close her eyes

Chorus

Capping him in his b-brain, with the m-mack t-ten
That's my p-partner we d-d-doing him in
L-l-leave him in the t-trunk
'til his c-crazy kid kicks one in the ch-chamber off
The s-safety
I g-got 'em g-got 'em four extra c-clips
Infra-red b-beam h-hollow tips
D-dirty l-licks m-midnight
M-mack w-one o and l-laser sights
R-rollin b-blunts smoking to the doobie
In my h-hooptie with my uzi t-talking to me
Telling me thought another lick we can go pull off
He told me keep your mask on don't take your hood off
So me bail into burger king and me pistol whip the guard
Everybody up on the floor nobody try to make it hard
Another guard was hiding he jumped out and bust at me
So i let him count the bullets in my c-l-i-p
Me hear them sirens ringing and me take off with the stack
Bailing without the stretch it's fetty chico and the mack
187-187-187-187-blaaaow

Chorus

(murder murder)
Murder murder and kill kill kill
World wide westside

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'

Ice-t intro:
Well alright. spice 1 in the hiddouse
(and short dawgs in the house bitch).
With the l.a. players (soldiers to the game you know?) yeah.
(peep game fool).
Ant banks at the crackhouse
Ha ha ha better recognize game when it's in your face bitch).

Ice-t:
It's obvious mad cash got me gassed
Shark tanks and views millionaire cruise buying cars in twos
"never lose" my motto since birth
Double up knots and crack spots
Snitches lead out by silence gun shots
Map the area i wanted to cut the fuckin' cops a deal
If they don't kneel, they get peeled
Bitches recognize i never have no drama with death
Bustas always try i leavin' 'em gagging spittin' up flem
Take a pen make a mil and if this shit don't sell
I still got the street powder back to flippin' flower
South central nigga what?
The representer, damn your girl seen me comin' and ran
Young enough to be my daughter
My posse use to flip her like a quarter
To state to my man for man slaughter
Caught her in the stairway took her out the fairway
Trunked the punk bitch (that's fair play)

Hook:
You've got the gangstas that i have tangled baby
Bitch recognize game when it's in your face
"well alright ch'all" "ha ha ha"

Too short:
You think the town rid of short?
You must be crazy, that silly shit you talkin' just don't faze me
I could make a phone call and just like that
A bunch of niggas from oakland all on your back
I've never been a shot caller just a nigga in a crew
They call me too short but i'm still bigger than you bitch
I been around you can take a turn but don't get burned
I've seen the tables turn
Marks turn into killers rich niggas go broke
Use to be a wanna but now i'm old school short
In the game never had the stacks since age 14
I been spittin' these raps soakin' up the game up
And even when i came up i fucked with same folks
Still did the same stuff
Bitch short dawgs in the house
I know you want my dick cause it's all in your mouth

Hook

Spice 1:
Picture the game as a quarter toss it up in the air (uh ha)
Heads or tails win or lose broke niggas are players (x2)
Say what up to the s.p. crooked i.c.e.
Ra rolling with the strap on the side of me
Potna don't get it twisted up i got hollow tips extended clips
Major chips lookin' at eclipse jacussi dips
Niggas step back i don't know you
Don't get to close to me
Some niggas ain't really the motherfucker they suppose to be
Cloud killers don't aim until you shoot in the air
Better put it down and brake some hoes off like a true player
Phoney as three dollar bills niggas ain't recognizin'
Fell in the relapse besides i'm a trauma a nigga
Look in the eyes and when you see me i be hardcore
What the fuck a real nigga gotta lie to kick it for?
I'm tired of these bubblegum ass niggas
Throwin' monkey wrenches into the game
And all the players and pimps feel my pain
Hustlers maintainin' riches and keepin' presidentals
Not artfical with fishin' niggas know i'm packin' missles
Get me two bentleys some houses johnson jet skis
Ballin' till i die nigga don't fuck with s.p.i.

Hook

(chorus): 2x
So you wanna be a playa
So you wanna be a g
So you wanna be a gangsta (2nd time: player)
But you don't wanna fuck with me

(verse 1):
Diamonds up on the pinky rolexes up on the wrist
Take a good look at this old pimpin' ass
Nigga you ain't never seen a mack like this
It's the thug in me
Niggas be walkin' round muggin' me ruggin' me
Tell your bitch to give me my dick back
She pullin' me and tuggin' me
Can't be fuckin' round with you cluckhead bitches
Don't need no fixin' rubbers
Just like my timin' ass partner (e-)40 say
Punk bitch y'all burn rubber
If that bitch can't swim then nigga she bound to drown
What's up with you old ratched mouth ass bitches
Tryna talk down on me and the town
You bitches better recognize this is 187 proofer
Mobbin' out the cut with a fat a.k. and a black on black lex luther
Ain't no ?? up in this ?? just shut em down crush nasty
Right now i'm kickin' this pimp shit but you ho's know i'm the last g
In sticky situations will have bust with no hesitation
You punk ass niggas don't know my background
You just stuck on that player hation
Why a nigga wanna talk bad on a timer who been down from the get go
I can smoke a blunt up in my hot tub don't be trippin' off that old shit though

(chorus): 2x

(verse 2):
You niggas ain't never seen me in person tryna assassinate my character
Talkin' bout spice ain't got no paper
Bitch i'm a nightmare livin' in america
Ain't no paperbag ass nigga hoe i done been through some shit
Niggas walkin' round out here i wanna kill
Wanna kill me too that's real
Punk ass niggas they know who they is runnin' round talkin' shit
Oh, fuck that punk ass nigga
Spice 1 he ain't nothin but a bitch
But one of these days
I'ma have your ass chopped up in the back of my benzo
Mobbin' to this old gangsta shit right here smokin' on some of that indo
Too many fuck you bitches up in the game niggas be puttin' too much on it
Born and bred to be a thug ass nigga
2 fingers on 2 twin glock triggers
I know the game ain't got no rules and they got been laced
Damn, if so many muthafuckas didn't know my face
I would've been offin' you playa hatin' ass niggas a long time ago
Would've seen you filled up with slugs would've seen you dyin' real slow
But you know what i ain't trippin' off that old shit
Cause y'all niggas ain't worth my riches
Go head and sit around and chatter my name out
I lace more punk ass bitches

(chorus): 2x

Chorus:
Cookin' up yae in the pure form of a rock
This is how we clock, stroll up on my block
3 in the morning po-po at my door
I'm wonderin' if really po-po at my door
This is kill street blues
(alternate 3 & 4)repeat 4x

Verse 1:
Sit your 5 dollar ass down
Nigga 'fore a chief baller make change
Cookin' up yae-yo at 3 in the mornin'
Choppin' up game sackin' up caine
Fetty was layin' all over the floor
I guess you cold say that i was slippin'
As the door kick in
I stick in my clip and begin the dippin'
Up on these so called po-po
But i know it can't be nuthin' but some niggas
Runnin' up in ski masks
So i continue to curse and blast that asses out
Tryin' to gaffle the scratch my gat consumes
Just then my killa partner steps outta the bathroom
Uzi's and mack thangs start lettin' off
Niggas catchin' slugs to the face
Baking soda some niggas brains cocaine all over the place
Took a dive behind the coach
Heard a nigga say "we gonn' kill you"
My 2 twin gats start talkin' to me said "fuck them niggas i feel you"
So i bail up outta the cut
Tryin' ta take lives with no remorse
Lookin' like a scene with laurence fishborne in "the king of new york"
Now it's 3 o'clock in the morning
And i still don't snooze
'cause through my life niggas be given me all these kill street blues

Chorus:

Verse 2:
1 nigga died high
Face down in uncut yae
I stuck my finger up in the hole in his body, told him have a nice day
My homie said "the real feds is comin'"
Said he was hit
I pull the bloody corpse off his body, he told me get the shit
Ran to the kitchen
Hopin' over the deceased
Gotta get the rocks money and powder, and evade the police
Put the fetty up in my hand
Gotta be quick, gotta be nimble
Look to my left seen 3 federalles' cars in the window
Now it's time for me and my homie
To mob the fuck on out
As we mob up outta there 3 federalles mob in the house
Can't say nuthin' about them other niggas
Them haters is out there dead
Couple a slugs up in they head, with a house full of feds
And ain't no time to be stickin' around
I'm hearin' them ambulances and homocides
I'm ready to bail outta the scene and flee up in this "g" ride
I'm thinkin' my homie heart stopped nigga dyin' on me
Partner dropped down to the ground
That's when them po-po started firing on me

Chorus:

Threw the caine down got to mobbin' off
As the po-po yelled out freeze (freeze)
Lost a down ass homie and the yae-yo man
But fuck it i'ma keep the cheese (cheese)
My partners eyes wide open
Nigga layin' there one breath too short (short)
But each time ya nigga spice 1 hit the corner
In a big white cloud of smoke (smoke)
Federalles on my bumper baby
Fittin' ta show 'em i ain't no punk (punk)
Use the right hand to do the drivin' thang
And the left hand ready to dump (dump)
Led 'em on a high speed chase
For about 30 minutes or a little bit more
Got a triple thang murder up under my belt
'bout 60 thousand ta doe (doe)
Ohhh nooo
Heard a slg hit my back tire
Then i spun around
Runnin' into the side while tearin' all shit down
Bitches was screamin' niggas was cussin'
Po-po bustin' at me (punk ass nigga)
Run into the liquor store
Knowin' they'll never catch me
But soon as i'm thinkin' of makin' my getaway
Ain't this a bitch
Some fedy with a 12 gauge
Put the barrel fight up to my shit (stay right there nigger)
Pull out the money and all of a sudden i hit the floor
Looked up and see the barrel of sgt. kickass' 4-4

Chorus: 2x