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spice 1 - d-boyz got love for me lyrics

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what’s wrong, n-gg-? what’s wrong, huh?
you scared, n-gg-? you scared?
what, you can’t talk with a motherf-ckin’ gun in your mouth, n-gg-?
i’m gonna give you a three count

i’ma blow your motherf-ckin’ brains out
one, what you think about, what you thinkin’?
i’m proud, two, kinda slick motherf-cker
nineteen motherf-ckin’ nine-fo’ comin’ at cha
ga-ga-gangsta spice motherf-ckin’ 1

i eat they -ss up like a swason with the thompson
fo’-fever, leave a motherf-ckin’ crime ‘fore he take his last breather
so come along take a trip to the dirt track
where the young n-gg-s be takin’ your car and be peelin’ your cap back

that’s why it’s a to the motherf-ckin’ yay
keeps a fat gat for the funk in the east bay
mainly off gat, i’m goin’ brain dead inside
talkin’ to my homies, ‘scratchy’ tellin’ me he wanna ride

on the n-gg- that peeled his cap, so now i’m on the streets
with the dead motherf-cker in the p-ssenger seat
and it’s fo’ to the motherf-ckin’ five
gat that -ss, leave ’em dead in the ives

red rum on the late night, catch my case right at the crack hut
n-gg-s better back up, while i fix my sack up
pistol whip, sh-t, kick that -ss quick
quick to rip sh-t ’cause i’m a coca cola cl-ssic
o.g. and d-boyz got love for me, d-boyz got love for me

da, tha, tha, da, tha, tha
da, tha, tha, da, tha, tha
da, tha, tha, da, tha, tha
da, tha, tha, da, tha, tha

i’ma chuck a dead body on your motherf-ckin’ lawn
like jump like red gone, n-gg-, i’ll be ready, the funk is on
so call up the paramedics and tell ’em that you’re dyin’ n-gg-
i roll strapped with no love upon my f-ckin’ trigger

i lets my hair platt and took his mail stack
now he’s a stiff black ’cause i was at that
i’m dumpin’ these n-gg-s in ditches back to back
hangin’ they -ss from telephone posts
to leavin’ ’em, makin’ ’em bleed without no money

gun me, hoe n-gg-s, wanna do that, do that
but i go out and get a new gat, new gat and let ’em have it
n-gg-, so d-boyz got love for me

i got love for d-boyz ’cause d-boyz got love for me
i got love for d-boyz ’cause d-boyz got love for me
n-gg- got outta line, i had to chop him
reached into my draws and pulled out my strap

motherf-cker got outta place, i had to chop him
reached into my fudadalooms and pulled out my strap
n-gg- got outta place, youse got to pop him
reach up in your draws and pull out your strap

rookie get outta line, you better ice him
reach into your d-dun-dun-duns and pull out your strap
just call me chef boyardee-boy, soda for bakin’
cupcakes and cookies, rappies, i’m makin’ huh

tall cash, can’t let eat up my gr-ss
don’t make me have to come back and split your parents house in half
with my 6rp226-diana ross, cousin nina, mr. meaner, body bleeder
heartless, empty the cartridge roll

smartless, get out and die so cold
hollow point hot ones, dipped in garlic
i lives up the bar like an alcoholic
n-gg-s think that i be bluffin’ when i tell ’em i’m a good shot

but i’m also into some other things
like ice picks and piano strings
so b-tch, i’m tryin’ to get nickerage
open up shop, cotton candy and liquorice, uh

[incomprehensible]
shoot ’em up now
[incomprehensible]
blaow, spiggidy one, whippin’ up on dat -ss for nine-four
da, tha, tha, da, tha, tha, da, tha, tha

[incomprehensible]
shoot ’em up now
[incomprehensible], byd-a-bye, bye
blaow, they call me spiggity one, spiggity one
(spiggity sp, sp, spiggity sp, sp, spit n-gg-)

me bust a cap up in your -ss with big black gun, byd-a-bye, bye
chill man, me roll down the block with my n-gg-
[incomprehensible]
byd-a-bye, bye, spiggidy one whippin’ up on dat -ss

chill man, livin’ in the city is a motherf-ckin’ task
what’s a 7 0 7 on er, your trunk n-gg-? 5 10
4 1 5’s?, yeah, that’s four fifteens, if y’all b-tches didn’t know
yeah, b-tch, stupid -ss hoes

da, tha, tha, sing it with me
da, tha, tha, da, tha, tha, ah, yeah

- spice 1 lyrics

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