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Lyrics:
(Raining in background)
Uh, Steve Stone (Steve Stone)
Left Gunn... Left Gunn
Baldhead Slick...
(Steve Stone)
Yo
You might find me in a green Range Rover, with a mean hangover
But niggaz know when Stone hit the scene, game over
You cats wanna dance I'll let the heat sing for ya
Then beat the murder case with first string lawyer
I'm the worst thing for ya - a thug in the flesh
If youse a nigga but you bitch, I'll put a slug in ya dress
If you think you got wiz, put your luck to the test
But you could catch somethin' hot, tryna fuck with the S
I got dimes to suck me off and let me nut on they breast
Can you say that... no wait, hold up, lemme repeat it
Can you cats say that shit and really mean it?
I'm at the spot gettin' treated, while you vets gettin' heated
Like the scrub that you are, little fuck that you are
Before the deal, I still had dubs like a star
My crew recognized at the clubs and the bar
Son of y'all and you still gotta love who we are
(Left Gunn)
Yo, goin' from broke
Went from rocks and the coats, to choppers and boats
At this year's parade, I'll have a spot on the float
Penthouse, with a pitch ready to aim for the do'
Movie screen with the voice-activated remote
See I'm finished makin' papi rich, coppin his coke
Next time he see me, I'm like 'He better savor ya throat'
Sorry amigo, but a nigga like me, need dough
Fuck it, I'll burn the bridge and come back on a yacht
Y'all the type of cats think shit's sweet when it's not
Bring the heat when it's cool, bring the ice when it's hot
Niggaz confused, I'm just tryna help you tally ya dues
And rally ya crews, and end up in a alley with goons
See when it come to the cash, I be on the worst shit
Roll up on you in a hoop, bumpin Biggie first shit
'Gimme loot, gimme loot' and don't try to get cute
Nobody keep cash in they pocket nigga, empty ya boots
Too many niggaz got the game twist, poppin' they Cris'
And rockin' they wrist, and end up gettin' robbed in the Bricks
I'm stoppin' this shit, Gunn's on the top of ya list
And I'ma lock it up in uniform or plain clothes
I play hoes, from chickenheads, to mayhoes
And I'ma travel to the end, spendin yen and pesos
(Hook: All)
Yo this one's for my niggaz comin' up, what the fuck?
Pull them niggaz out they truck, and tell 'em to give it up
Stick him up, if he play fair, pick him up
Otherwise, it's some other guy's job to dig him up
(Guru)
Comin' through, holdin' it down, controllin the town
Wondered if I was nice, yeah, you knowin' it now
I do my thing bitch, way past chains and rings bitch
Time to real dough, time for you to sing bitch
Call the fat lady, game over, reign's over
Your Willy status, and success and fame's over
Stone and Two Gunns came over, to bless some shit with the god
Geuss what, my dogs just pissed on your lawn
Flipped on you pawns, just 'cause you was kickin it wrong
And don't ask me for advice 'cause I ain't diggin ya song
Time to straighten it out, we takin' the clout
Fuck a short career, listen y'all I'm spacin it out
Tri-state niggaz, some of the illest y'all hear
Illest ya meet, yeah some of the realest ya fear
Fuck the truth, I'm concealin y'all and stealin all queers
Since y'all niggaz slept on me, I ain't feelin' your tears
I like to pinpoint a sucka, like a country on a map of the globe
Get it to some gangsta shit, watch 'em clap then he fold
Enter my zone, soon get smothered with mase
I'm on the block, who run the streets is watchin, I cover my face
I'm bubblin papes, my son grew to smugglin nape's
So we jugglin cakes, and from ya shorty I'm lovin' the face
I'm huggin the block, my big dogs, they thuggin' the block
In my hood, fuck runnin' nigga 'cause we tustle with cops
Real Picasso, write rhymes, visualize
Spit raps on how to survive on family ties
Rock a no-name sweater, with a Iceberg tee-shirt under it
Leather seats in my Nova, and fifty G's I'm comin' wit
Next day I come through, I'm dipped in the Armani jumpsuit
Hard-top hummer, sunroof big enough to jump through
Nigga what? I don't care if you in the tux
I'll put the Eagle to ya gut, and tell you to give it up
(Hook x2: All)
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