Don’t Call Me Nigga

I got your card, fool, you think that niggas ain't deep
You called me nigga, now my homies put that cracker to sleep
I'm ready to set-trip, nigga, go get your shit
I'm ready to slit, no fuckin joke
Bullet Loc, I'm comin to slit your throat
I'm in the chow hall ( ? ) nigga for pork chops
Wonderin will it ever stop
Black, whites and eses on ( ? )
But you got your strap and I got my strap and you gon' do your thang
And I gots no love for you cause nigga, you not from my gang
So you take your side and I take my side and ride till we all die
Homicide the opposite of suicide
How does it feel to have that shank in ya?
Ugh, Mr. Ray Dog is gankin ya
Ah, battery pack to the back of the dome
Parole shot me down, so it ain't no goin home
So now I won't see board for a year
But in between I'm loc'in up, shakin a few and drinkin a bottle a of Thorazine
Dazed out, wishin that I could come back
In the rubberroom ass-naked holdin my sack
But no doubt, I gets back out in six months time
They bustin a spread to celebrate, right, back on main line
Bust some flicks for a couple of bitches before I do work
Cause when I'm puttin it down, it ain't no tellin who get hurt
Cause I be kickin up all this dust without no fuckin trigger
So now you understand why no cracker don't call me nigga