Gangsta
[Intro: C-Bo | Brotha Lynch Hung]
Vicious, vicious spit around here, boy, uh-huh
Uh (Mmm), uh (Mmm)
These n***as don't want (Hmm)
What (Hmm), yeah (Yeah)
C-Bo (Brotha Lynch)
West Coast (West Coast)
On the map (On the map)
What (What)
Uh-huh (Yeah)
[Verse 1: C-Bo | Brotha Lynch Hung]
Y'all ready for the all-out callin' out?
Bitch want a n***a that's ballin' out (Ballin' out)
Money ain't right, they fallin' out (Fallin' out)
In the doghouse all night callin' out (Callin' out)
Spend money, like stylin' out
Every night, Sunset, whylin' out
I was at her place, all in my face
Next thing you know, I was grippin' her the waist
Had that pillow in her face
All up in your place, dick all up in your face
I just exercise game on a bitch (And what?)
Hang out the window and chain slang on a bitch (And what?)
Cock game then aim on a bitch (And what?)
Tryna get off into the brain on a bitch (And what?)
Bet that, I make change on a bitch
Flip 4-point-6 Range on a bitch (Bitch)
Same n***a, same trick, same wrist, n***a, just frostbit
At the bar, all six bottles of Cris', hookers look like models and shit
N***a, 'cause we...
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung & C-Bo]
Gangsta, n***a, we like, fuck a ho
Tuck 'em, don't love 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Never thinking of 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Tuck 'em, don't love 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Never thinking of 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Tuck 'em, don't love 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Never thinking of 'em though
[Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung]
I used to ball like my cock is Will and Dog and Jerome
Used to hang out the window with the .9 chrome when it was on (Fuck you, n***a)
Used to sing out the window when I was 14 years old
It was 1 o'clock in the morning, in her window, hard as a stone
Gotta get it on
Hit dome, split dome, spit chromes in they crevices
Gotta let it rip; better hope that clip don't split you like a lettuce
Got a fetish for meat, retreat, penetration generatin' the heat
Beat, 'til it's bloody meat, got it all on my Dickies and seats
Never trusted a ho, just busted a ho in the grill (Bitch)
I'm the type of a n***a that'll get real
Shoot them slugs in your bill, gotta get that mill
Gotta pop that pill too, gotta fuck you 'til I kill you
Light grip, don't even trip, eat 'em up like soul food
This is 4, fool, and the 9 connected
Double jeopardy if you step to me
Get a hysterectomy for disrespecting me
Expect to leak your life away
Used to cut 'em up in little pieces for the McRib
Hook the meat like fish fillet
N***a, 'cause we...
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung & C-Bo]
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Tuck 'em, don't love 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Never thinking of 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Tuck 'em, don't love 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Never thinking of 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Tuck 'em, don't love 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Never thinking of 'em though
[Verse 3: Kam]
I'm a rhyme fanatic, Titanic grind, used to minor static
Tryna have it, automatic MAC, Black vagina addict
Silly rabbit, Trix is for kids, you must be crazy
'Cause screwin' got n***as doin' bids and pushin' up daisies
It never ceases to amaze me what n***as do for the cot
Like what G's do for the block and these fiends do for a rock
Tick tock, it don't stop, from the back, bottom or on top
We got 'em hot—if we can't make it crack, then it won't pop
Vicious, vicious spit around here, boy, uh-huh
Uh (Mmm), uh (Mmm)
These n***as don't want (Hmm)
What (Hmm), yeah (Yeah)
C-Bo (Brotha Lynch)
West Coast (West Coast)
On the map (On the map)
What (What)
Uh-huh (Yeah)
[Verse 1: C-Bo | Brotha Lynch Hung]
Y'all ready for the all-out callin' out?
Bitch want a n***a that's ballin' out (Ballin' out)
Money ain't right, they fallin' out (Fallin' out)
In the doghouse all night callin' out (Callin' out)
Spend money, like stylin' out
Every night, Sunset, whylin' out
I was at her place, all in my face
Next thing you know, I was grippin' her the waist
Had that pillow in her face
All up in your place, dick all up in your face
I just exercise game on a bitch (And what?)
Hang out the window and chain slang on a bitch (And what?)
Cock game then aim on a bitch (And what?)
Tryna get off into the brain on a bitch (And what?)
Bet that, I make change on a bitch
Flip 4-point-6 Range on a bitch (Bitch)
Same n***a, same trick, same wrist, n***a, just frostbit
At the bar, all six bottles of Cris', hookers look like models and shit
N***a, 'cause we...
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung & C-Bo]
Gangsta, n***a, we like, fuck a ho
Tuck 'em, don't love 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Never thinking of 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Tuck 'em, don't love 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Never thinking of 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Tuck 'em, don't love 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Never thinking of 'em though
[Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung]
I used to ball like my cock is Will and Dog and Jerome
Used to hang out the window with the .9 chrome when it was on (Fuck you, n***a)
Used to sing out the window when I was 14 years old
It was 1 o'clock in the morning, in her window, hard as a stone
Gotta get it on
Hit dome, split dome, spit chromes in they crevices
Gotta let it rip; better hope that clip don't split you like a lettuce
Got a fetish for meat, retreat, penetration generatin' the heat
Beat, 'til it's bloody meat, got it all on my Dickies and seats
Never trusted a ho, just busted a ho in the grill (Bitch)
I'm the type of a n***a that'll get real
Shoot them slugs in your bill, gotta get that mill
Gotta pop that pill too, gotta fuck you 'til I kill you
Light grip, don't even trip, eat 'em up like soul food
This is 4, fool, and the 9 connected
Double jeopardy if you step to me
Get a hysterectomy for disrespecting me
Expect to leak your life away
Used to cut 'em up in little pieces for the McRib
Hook the meat like fish fillet
N***a, 'cause we...
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung & C-Bo]
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Tuck 'em, don't love 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Never thinking of 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Tuck 'em, don't love 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Never thinking of 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Tuck 'em, don't love 'em though
Gangsta, we like, fuck a ho
Never thinking of 'em though
[Verse 3: Kam]
I'm a rhyme fanatic, Titanic grind, used to minor static
Tryna have it, automatic MAC, Black vagina addict
Silly rabbit, Trix is for kids, you must be crazy
'Cause screwin' got n***as doin' bids and pushin' up daisies
It never ceases to amaze me what n***as do for the cot
Like what G's do for the block and these fiends do for a rock
Tick tock, it don't stop, from the back, bottom or on top
We got 'em hot—if we can't make it crack, then it won't pop