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[Featuring SPice 1  2Pac  Mac Mall] 
Verse One: E 40 
I'm really not all that sure 
bout when things is finna mature 
So let me find me a nigga with a grip 
and hit his ass quick with one of them whoops 
(What's the definition of a lick?) 
Taking a niggaz shit 
(Hey put that on sumthin) 
I put that on The Click  The Click 
Back to fuckin work one of the homies jus got dusted 
Time to do some dirt  uhh  I never trusted 
them bustas shot him in the shirt, dead on arrival 
Now the town is funky, it's called survival 
What y'all wanna do? They got us scuffled 
(bullet high, get in your eye) if this was a fifth well I be drunk 
I'm heated, them niggaz cheated, played me false 
We had em eatin, shit 'posed to been squashed 
I noticed one killa on the double dribble and set him up y'all 
She likes the Monie in the Middle, play tetherball 
Thick ass bitch, high yellow city-slicker 
Scarecrow creepin Southern bitches, aka Posie Pussyfictious 
Verse Two: Spice-1 
Nigga been holdin guts, but shit on hisself and a funky bill 
Pullin out bills, frontin on material shit 
that's when I get to killin shit (killin shit) 
And settin 'im up and havin 'im catchin a couple of slugs 
Sl-uh sl-uh slugs, trynta fuck with savage thug 
Pistol pop in they ass, see niggaz be gettin this twisted 
It's that bitch that killed ya 
Took all your money peeled ya 
Seven niggaz bust in the room with AK's 
while a nigga be puttin on his jimmy 
All of a sudden they shoot up your Vuitton 
before you can hit the broccoli 
See money-a-made that nigga, that nigga didn't make that money 
Left them niggaz jacked up, and the bitch she macked him 
He's a busta, punk ass nigga, y'all know the streets 
That's why that nigga naked layin dead in between some bloody sheets 
It's just a part of the game he didn't feel 
Bitches will kill, fuck a nigga, out his last d-uh dollar bill 
You don't know that hoe main that bitch can't be trusted 
Dusted and di-motherfuckin-sgusted 
Chorus: E-40 
Some cold hearted shit 
Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted 
Whacha'll wanna do, whacha'll wanna do 
Cold hearted bitches 
Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted 
Whacha'll wanna do, I never trusted them bustas 
Some cold hearted shit 
Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted 
I never trusted them bustas 
And it's them cold hearted bitched 
Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted 
Dusted and disgusted 
Verse Three: E-40, 2Pac 
Let's let of some two or threes on the other side of t-uh-town 
Draw the attention on the other s-uh-side of town (other side of town) 
And wait for the po-po shift to change, ghetto shootin range 
Revenge on the r-uh-rebound, war games 
Droughts, out, shhh lost clientele but I will prevail 
by sellin the broccoli dank instead of the crack cocaine 
try not to steal narcotics 
When these punk MC's and bitches be the reason why 
the smoke be comin up out the chow, with my nigga Pac 
Dear God, can you forgive me? My future's lookin sick 
I'm in my rag hittin switches I'm suspicious of these bitches 
I keep on, calllin, but ain't nobody pickin up 
I think she's stallin, this evil bitch is tryin ta set me up 
Came all alone if it's on then it's on 
Where's my motherfuckin chrome, only jealous niggaz roam 
It's a war zone (war zone) but I'm a man so with gun in hand 
I'm on my way to see this hoe you know the fuckin plan 
Can't understand, but the things ain't the same 
You could die over these bitches if you slippin in the game 
Niggaz gang bang, but bitches gang bang too 
Give up that good thang, and put that pistol to your brain 
If you was smart figure, don't have no love in your heart nigga 
Any complications pull the trigger, dusted and disgusted 
Bitches can't be trusted, you know the rules 
They underhanded, she planned it, you fuckin fool 
(These hoes out here tryin to hold a nigga's heart 
So a nigga get his money fucked with 
Almost in-laws) 
Hey be proud of it when you turn these bitches upside down 
What's gonna happen 
(Uhh, three and a half dollars or probably fo' if 
a bitch ridin) 
(Yeah main, them hoes talented 
They be fuckin with mo' MC's at Jack the Rapper) 
(Aight fuck it, what you say Mall? 
Ay, fuck them sheisty ass bootches, nigga) 
Verse Four: Mac Mall, Spice-1, E-40 
The California lifestyle that I live 
Where the bitches is crooked and niggaz jus don't give 
A flyin fuck, so I stay stuck, smokin on the tay-low 
Bay Area playa, tryin ta have shit major 
And a bitch won't save ya 
so I ain't playin Captain Save a Hoe 
I mob up in ya like a pro and then I'm gone 
I'm like Sylvester Stallone, everyday is like a Cliffhanger 
Action packed, I let the mini-mac smack that ass 
Them hoes jacked that ass 
Nigga woulda got smokin on that hash 
Can't have my cash, better go and take your nigga stash 
Cuz he's a busta, niggaz with clusters 
Slippin in shit, betta jack that nigga 'fore I jack his ass bitch 
Never was no love for the mark-ass, the lo pink (the lo pink) 
You love them Bootsy bitches, can't let them pussy bitches 
gank that ass, betta hide your cash and check her fast 
Pump your brakes nigga, slow your roll don't go too fast 
Cause bulletproof ain't doin no good no mo' no mo' no mo' no mo' 
now, niggaz comin up dead with they brains blew out on the fuckin 
floor 
damn, hollow points to flesh tears through the teflon vest 
Now r-uh-rest 
Pull a plug on a flatline over those, one nigga less 
One nigga less, from coast to coast, to the East to the West 
Crushin the flesh, dem bitches played a game of death 
Look over your shoulder watch your back don't even trust it 
I'm tryin to told ya end up dusted 
Chorus

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