Gangsta

Lyrics

[Intro: C-Bo | Brotha Lynch Hung] Vicious, vicious spit around here, boy, uh-huh Uh (Mmm), uh (Mmm) These niggas 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 nigga 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 nigga, same trick, same wrist, nigga, just frostbit At the bar, all six bottles of Cris', hookers look like models and shit Nigga, 'cause we... [Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung & C-Bo] Gangsta, nigga, 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, nigga) 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 nigga 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 Nigga, '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 niggas doin' bids and pushin' up daisies It never ceases to amaze me what niggas 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