All you wannabe gangstas,
drivin' Volkswagens
Chillin' at the high schools,
broke but braggin'
Under- educated, your style is dated
You talk behind my back and your
rope's gold- plated
But I'm back to take revenge,
my beef will never end
I'll drill your midsection,
'til your body starts to bend
Like a pis tol, I'ma smokin'
I'm crushin', not jokin'
Whippin' sissies for a past time,
and no I'm never chokin'
I blow away suckers with the
flicker of my index
Not brass monkey, it's a natural reflex
Cold ghetto tactics, makin' suckers holla
A vicious motherfucker
with a rope around my collar
I carry lots a cash, I whip a sucker's ass
I drive a big Caddy,
and I pull the trigger fast
Down at Arnold's on the
Ave, I'm fightin' 'til the death
I let you sock my in my chest,
and then I break your damn neck
I got the cold beats rippin',
your needle's not skippin'
So many damn weapons that the
military's trippin'
People in Seattle hate me
'cause I'm not like a hood
But you rock heads wish that you could
Now let's get one thing straight,
my weapons are great
You .22 automatic suckers are late
Got a quarter Moon clip,
and a Smith and Wesson
I'm about to give you roody- poos a
cold gun les son
I'm the wiz ard of may hem,
master of destruction
Got a .44 Mag,
with the blunt instructions
Page 1 says open, page 2 says fill
Page 3 says cock, page 4 says kill
A mini 14, full combat dress
A thirty round clip,
and I ain't takin' no mess
'Cause I'm a rough aggressor,
a camouflage dresser
My M16 has a flash suppressor
My Sterling Mark 6 is funny but it hits
It looks sideways but the
sucker will kick
I pack of dangerous Beretta,
kinda small but it's good
Some of you wannabes
wish that you could
Now I'm about to get ghost,
so I better clean up
I'm not advocatin' crime,
but you gotta get tough
I don't believe in gun control,
the theory is proven
Give a criminal a gun,
and your public is losin'
So you gotta fight back,
'cause the pigs ain't black
No protection in your sec tion,
now it's time to act
A .22 won't do, you need rapid fire
I'm a ammo collector,
not a dumb gun buyer
Big battle rifles, can make a suckers day
You mess around with Mix- A- Lot, you
might get blown away
Wearin' five gold rings,
never intimidated
In Seattle they are jealous 'cause a
brother has made it
But they don't mess with me
'cause they might get Iced
I'm not a gay rapper,
I don't like to get knifed
The devil made me do it,
and I wannabe good
Don't you roody-
poos wish that you could
Be a hip hop
I'm runnin' hollow point
bullets in my .38
So if you plan to get ill, you better
stay in your place
'Cause I'm not a game player,
I'm just a rhyme sayer
My vigilante group includes my mayor
I pack two Uzis 'cause they stop all crime
You might get yours,
but don't let me get mine
I never beat woman, romance is better
If a freak wants to leave,
boy, you might as well let her
West coast rappers, we all bust hard
When we're chillin' on the set, we
never need a bodyguard
People in Seattle hate me
'cause I'm not like a hood
Some of you wannabes
wish that you could
Be a hip hop