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spice 1 – check ya self lyrics

now come and beat the realness
f-ckin’ these funky hoes will make you feel this
drippin’ sensation stickin’ your ace in the wrong place
and you’ll be -ss out d-ckless, p-ssin’ out when you get this
aids sh-t in your grave, ditch will be dug with a quickness
so this is the phase of the days when i grew up
reminiscin’ and trippin’ off all them hoes i done f-cked
but it’s all good and plenty
i hust can’t count how many trampy hoes i done did it to
licked it, did it, split it too
but sh-t is cool makin’ the thrilla of manilla
scoop up the scrilla boy that cuchi be a killa
you can feel a order up with a nut and then bounce
and have that -ss comin’ up shorter than a f-ckin’ quarter ounce…

[gangsta p]
let’s get toe down off some x-o, puffin’ on the cripto
bent corner eyers up on her, super band low down dirty shame
no need to know your age, b-tch, what’s your name?
said her name was tammy, lived with her granny
all i’m thinkin’ about is gettin’ in her panties
got the digits, called her later on that night
at a two dome s-x, flossin’ big elex
c-cked the roof back, b-tch, blaze the sack
reached the destination, no hesitation
out of my clothes in the guts about to nut
no protection, after two hours hopped out the shower
dressed in eddie bauer, livin’ like a true playas should
six years later: test positive cause the hoe was no good…

if you wanna get your groove on, come and do a little somethin’ with
me…
if you wanna get your groove on, let’s wrap it up before we f-ck…
if you wanna get your groove on, come and do a little somethin’ with
me…
if you wanna get your groove on, let’s wrap it up before we f-ck…

[celly cel]
a-i-d crooked letter
mothaf-ckas better strap up when they come together
it’s a top notch so you ain’t thinkin’
got your battlefields sinkin’, caught late night full of weed, drinkin’
got ya creepin’ in the unknown
steered you wrong even if you get your head blown
fool, you still gone, switch up your tactics: f-ck with prophalactics
it ain’t about that raw d-ckin’ her and nuttin’ on the mattress
you didn’t know these hoes will put the tags on your toes
don’t knows crossin’ up the game because she chose
listen to your homie celly, n-gg-, before you hit the telly, n-gg-
have a box of rubbers ready, n-gg-…

[almon d of 187-fac]
i can’t lie, this whole aids situation got my brain drownin’ in
illusions
settin’ n-gg-s up for the conclusions
i ain’t sayin’ that i’m gonna live forever
gotsta f-ck new, get sometime in the future
don’t got no babies, what about the day when you get married
i hope i’m layin’ in bed with a virgin with a meal that’s urgent
she heard that i was livin’ my lifestyle lavishly
flashbacks of f-ckin’ her cousin in the alley
smokin’ on the twamp sack that she bought the jimmy hats
three o’clock in the morning, sideways i was cuttin’ the pontiac
strapped…

[den-fenn of 187-fac]
well, here’s a serious situation that we facin’
it starts off by doin’ the nasty without patience
forgettin’ about the condom
usin’ and abusin’ the drugs and methinfedamies
she wanted to suck my d-ck head so bad she was beggin’ me
so i stepped to this straight b-tch named sally, sally
threw my slugs at a scallywag at a club in the valley
leather trench, all hair down to her shoulders and back
some guess jeans all deep down and her p-ssy read fat
to be exact one of my n-gg-s pulled my coat tail
and told me that the b-tch was hectic: a-i to the d-s infected…

[g-nut of 187-fac]
mothaf-ckas be runnin’ up in this b-tch without no prophalactics
filthy tactics, may as well pull the strap to your head and blast it
suicidal decisions, livin’ your life on the edge slippin’
with one foot off in the grave and the other one on a banana peelin’
but i ain’t trippin’, red ribbons in my chest
no chemotherapy treatments needed
cause i’m a make it strecth to my
stapped all over my d-ck and when i digs i blow they mind back
and then i grab my sh-t

[spice 1]
some of you n-gg-s can’t even say condoms
some n-gg-s be talkin’ about conderves or condos
straight raw d-ckin’ hoes
you don’t know that hoe, man, that b-tch can’t be trusted
better be strapped with about four condoms
if you plan to keep your life, soldier
you’re gonna be feelin’ kinda f-cked up and faulty
when you rappin’ up on that stage and your d-ck fall off into the
audience
silent but deadly way of murder, it’s mighty sick
gotta have a bullet proof vest for your d-ck
seventeen with the fat hydraulics
see, us west coast n-gg-s is the most psychotic
hittin’ switches in my old school with four, f-ck three pumps
my homie said that b-tch had more pizzazz with “p” funk
i’m peepin’ in the b-tch out at the hoe spot
tryin’ to throw that virus to my homie
betta watch these b-tches cause they’re fake and phony…

- spice 1 lyrics

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