[Intro: Spice 1]
What's wrong nigga? What's wrong huh?
You scared nigga? You scared?
What, you can't talk with a motherfuckin' gun in your mouth nigga?
I'm gonna give you a three count
I'mma blow your motherfuckin' brains out
One, what you think about, what you thinkin'?
Don't cry, two (I don't slip motherfucker)
(*Gun blast*)
Nineteen motherfuckin' nine-fo' comin' at cha
Gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gangsta Spice motherfuckin' 1
[Verse 1: Spice 1]
I eat they ass up like a Swanson with the Thompson
Fo'-fever, leave a - motherfuckin' cryin 'fore he take his last breather
So come along take a trip to the dope track
Where the young niggas be takin' your car and be peelin' your cap back
That's why it's A to the motherfuckin' K
Keeps a fat gat for the funk in the East Bay
Mainy off 'yac, I'm goin' brain dead inside
Talkin' to my homies 'Scratchy' tellin' me he wanna ride
On the nigga that peeled his cap so now I'm on the streets
With the dead motherfucker in the passenger seat
And it's fo' to the motherfuckin' five
G-a-gat that ass leave 'em dead in the ?eyes?
Red Rum on the late night, catch my case right at the crack hut
Niggas better back up, while I fix my sack up
Pistol whip, shit, kick that ass quick
Quick to rip shit, cause I'm a Coca Cola Classic
O.G. and D-Boyz got love for me, D-Boyz got love for me
What's wrong nigga? What's wrong huh?
You scared nigga? You scared?
What, you can't talk with a motherfuckin' gun in your mouth nigga?
I'm gonna give you a three count
I'mma blow your motherfuckin' brains out
One, what you think about, what you thinkin'?
Don't cry, two (I don't slip motherfucker)
(*Gun blast*)
Nineteen motherfuckin' nine-fo' comin' at cha
Gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gangsta Spice motherfuckin' 1
[Verse 1: Spice 1]
I eat they ass up like a Swanson with the Thompson
Fo'-fever, leave a - motherfuckin' cryin 'fore he take his last breather
So come along take a trip to the dope track
Where the young niggas be takin' your car and be peelin' your cap back
That's why it's A to the motherfuckin' K
Keeps a fat gat for the funk in the East Bay
Mainy off 'yac, I'm goin' brain dead inside
Talkin' to my homies 'Scratchy' tellin' me he wanna ride
On the nigga that peeled his cap so now I'm on the streets
With the dead motherfucker in the passenger seat
And it's fo' to the motherfuckin' five
G-a-gat that ass leave 'em dead in the ?eyes?
Red Rum on the late night, catch my case right at the crack hut
Niggas better back up, while I fix my sack up
Pistol whip, shit, kick that ass quick
Quick to rip shit, cause I'm a Coca Cola Classic
O.G. and D-Boyz got love for me, D-Boyz got love for me
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