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east bay gangster - 187 proof lyrics

[intro]

[verse 1]
welcome to the ghetto, and this is the place, young n-gg-s throwin rocks in your face
my homey g be yellin yo this like a holdup (what up, n-gg-), i’m pullin my gat to make
a m-th- f-cka fold up
in my jag on my phone talkin business, mac 10 to my dome
yo what is this?
i’m tellin him drop it yo let’s box, we can go a round, he dropped
his gat i picked it up and blew his -ss down
i know it’s scandalous but a simple f-ckin dirty fact, i’d rather hear
my uzi rat-a-ta-ta-tat-tat
it’s for protection not to k!ll or break a n-gg-‘s bones, back to the
story, here’s the story b the story on
his guts were scattered he was splattered up against the wall, my homey
g was on my phone buggin off my call
i tried to smash but i’m lookin at some high beams into the eyes of
some m-th- f-ckin dope fiend
he seen me shoot him so i shot him blew his -ss off , i shot my uzi in the air and then i smashed off
i’m rollin thicker than a milkshake
i like to eat crab but i prefer steak
i ain’t no joke m-th-f-cka so don’t play yourself
i flip you over fry
your -ss like a patty melt
and if you ever disrespect me i’mma bank ya
so say what up to the east bay gangster

[verse 2]
looked in my mirror cose range right behind me, tinted windows in
the benz 190
i ain’t no dummy knew right off he’s tryin to k!ll me, if i don’t smash
full of buckshot he will fill me
hangin out the car shots scatter windows shatter trouble, i’ll shoot
him up bathed in his blood like mr. bubble
187 did i do it with an ak, another day a n-gg- dead up in the
alleyway
why did i do it, it’s my pistol and i packed it, i think they need to
lock my -ss up in a straight jacket
so all you suckas listen close to this warnin, while i get into your
-ss like charmin
funky sh-t that so dope so open your mouth up, you ever shuck me i’mma
blow your d-mn house up
and if the rollers try to catch me they can go to h-ll
i ain’t the brother to get rotten in a jail cell
why i’m [?]? i got reasons for it, boy
this ain’t a child’s play, [?] like chucky, he’s a toy
but i’m not, so don’t play me like a toy truck
’cause if you do it, i’ll be quick to f-ck you up
you wanna [?]? imma shank ya!
so say what up to the east bay gangster

[verse 3]
4-1-5 is my hood, that’s where i’m from b-tch
black steel is my brother, f-ck with me you’ll get dissed
boom boom to the head now your body’s numb
i’ll punk you out and slap your b-tch and get a fifth a rum
there you are c.b.bannern’ all your casualties
that’s what you get you f-ck the 1-8-7 faculty
i’m a fool to my bone, that’s what’s goin’ on
my boy got static so i used this mobile telephone
it was busy so i hung up and i called twice
he said “who is it?” i said “it’s m.c. m-th-f-ckin’ spice”
he told me “someone sold my boy up like some col’d slaw”
pack your nine, i’ll pump the beat up in the jaguar
i push the brakes and smash the gas and started smokin’ sh-t
picked up my phone and called my posse from the oakland click
shot to the city like a nine to the boat yard
we chopped him up and sent his fingers with the postcard
think i’m insane? no, i’m just a little senile
and plus i’m caught up in this m-th-rf-ckin’ freestyle
and all you suckers must’a had a f-ckin’ payday
nutty to f-ck with s-p-i-c-e on any day
i’m so insane that i’ll f-ck you up and bank ya
so label me the east bay gansgter

- 187 proof lyrics

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