East Bay Gangster (Reggae Mix)

[Verse 1]
Welcome to the ghetto, and this is the place
Young niggas be throwin' the rocks up your face
My homie G be yellin', "Yo, it's like a holdup"
I'm pullin' my gat to make the motherfucker fold up
In my Jag on my phone talkin' business
MAC 10 to my dome — yo, what is this?
I'm tellin' him, "Drop it, yo, let's box and we can go a round"
He dropped his gat, I picked it up and blew his ass down
I know it's scandalous but it's simple, fuck a dirty back
I'd rather hear my Uzi rat-a-ta-ta-tat-tat
It's for protection, not to kill or break a nigga's bones
Back to the story, here's the story, B, the story on
His guts were scattered, he was splattered up against the wall
My homie G was on my phone buggin' off my call
I tried to smash but I'm lookin' at some high beams
Into the eyes of some motherfuckin' dope fiend
He seen me shoot him so I shot him, blew his ass off
I shot my Uzi up in the air and then I smashed off
I'm rollin' thicker than a milkshake
I like to eat crab but I prefer steak
I ain't no joke, motherfucker, so don't play yourself
I flip you over, fry your ass like a patty melt
And if you ever disrespect me, I'ma bank ya
So say "what up" to the motherfuckin' East Bay gangsta

[Bridge]
Meneme gots to use my 9 'cause 5-0 bombed the AK-uh
The 187, the Posse robbed the bank anyway-uh
Legal or illegal, it's the way of the Bay-uh
The government keep the profit off cocaine anyway
Me shootin' 'em up, me shootin' 'em up if he don't give me my pay-uh
The niggas up on the block, they send for me every day-uh
A thousand every day will keep the 5-0 away-uh
Just call me East Bay G-A-N-G-S-T-A-uh

[Verse 2]
Looked in my mirror close range right behind me
Tinted windows up in the Benz 190
I ain't no dummy, knew right off he's tryna kill me
If I don't smash, full of buckshots he will fill me
Hangin' out the car, shots scatter, windows shatter, trouble
I'll shoot him up, bathed in his blood like Mr. Bubble
1-87, did I do it with an AK?
Another day, a nigga dead up in the alleyway
Why did I do it? It's my pistol and I packed it
I think they need to lock my ass up in a straitjacket
So all you suckas, listen close to this warnin'
While I get into your ass like Charmin
Funky shit that's so dope, it numb your mouth up
You ever shuck me, I'ma blow your fuckin' house up
And if you ever disrespect me, I'ma bank ya
So say "what up" to the motherfuckin' East Bay gangsta

[Bridge]
Gi-gi-da, gi-gi-da gangsta
Gi-gi-da, gi-gi-da gangsta
Kickin' the funky gi-gi-da, gi-gi-da, gi-gi-da, gi-gi-da gangsta
They gots G-Nut because he's down with the Fac
Lynch motherfuckers when me coolin' the block
The X the L the A the R-G-E, the Murder Fac 187 Posse
The E-A-Ski is with 187, the CMT is with 187

[Verse 3]
Now as I'm maxin' in this motherfuckin' jail cell
With nothin' but dried up funk to smell
I'm thinkin' about the times that I ganked fools
And why I'm coolin' in these fucked up county blues
I've murdered motherfuckers singular and in a pair
And in the morning, I'll be getting the electric chair
But do I care? Yo, I can give a fuck less
The CIA, FBI got it in the chest
Tappin' my phone calls, wires hidden in my walls
I had the money flowin' smooth like Niagara Falls
Look where it got me, I'm considered a murderous criminal
Because my bullet ate his ass like a cannibal
Before I chopped him with AK, I made him say his grace
And then I emptied the clip off up in his fuckin' face
His partner callin' for backup as I was breakin' out
"Nigga, freeze or die," that's what I heard him shout
I hit the corner with quickness because I ain't the one
To feel the fuckin' blast of a shotgun
And when they fry my ass, I'm goin' straight to hell
That's why I'm kickin' you tales of a jail cell
And if you ever disrespect me, I'ma bank ya
So say "what up" to the motherfuckin' East Bay gangsta

[Outro]
Dja mon, me gonna kick the funky gangsta shit, mon
Me kickin' the funky gangsta
The gi-gi-da, gi-gi-da gangsta
Gi-gi-da, gi-gi-da, gi-gi-da, gi-gi-da, gi-gi-da, gi-gi-da gangsta
Dja mon, mida me got E-A-Ski in the house, mon
Me got me DJ Xtra Large, mon
We got CMT in the motherfuckin' house, mon
Dja mon, we got my nigga Slip in the motherfuckin' house, mon
Servin' some of the G
Check it out
Man, me pullin' out me gat, mon, to sell 'em to ghetto Jah
Me kickin' the funky Reggae, kickin' the funky Rasta
Many people that I be meeting be calling me killa gangsta
Me shoot up your bitch and then kick back and smoke 'em by in the car
Me fuckin' with dank, me fuckin' with dank, it's S-P-I-C-E 1
Me buckin' 'em down, me buckin' 'em down, me shootin' up lead in his lung-uh
Me kickin' the funky gangsta shit to get the bitch sprung-uh
The 187, the Faculty, bitch, so fuck this last song-uh