Westside, a 1987 box I?m headed up, yeah, headed for bucks Fuck ?em all, make ?em feel my dread like I had a head of locks Feelin? rebuffed, like you
the Slums, But I ranned (But I ranned) Been boning girls in the Scooby Doo Van ( Doo Van) Chicks been missing since the Summer Of Sam (Of Sam) Oh, I
Sam (Of Sam) Oh, I get'em all from ya hood clubs (Clubs) Blue Magic, Be floating in my black Cup (Cup) Mack mold, spit the game and make'em feel good (Feel
s you against me Catch a three-hundred and sixty degree Roundhouse to the mouth right And like the sun, make the hot shit shine bright I feelin like my
't no need for that, hustlers and hardcores Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs The green-eyed bandit can't stand it With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam
box I'm headed up, yeah, headed for bucks Fuck 'em all, make 'em feel my dread like I had a head of locks Feelin' rebuffed, like you had that shot But
motherfucker All I know, he's about to drop some shit now When I first came out many couldn't catch my name Now worldwide, feel the affects, scratch
greatest latest Stuntin' out the middle of nowhere like Vegas From the Chi, the city of hella haters Where we keep risin' to the top like elevators Hi haters, I'm back of hiatus I feel
out and I stayed in And I struggled with that Fenn She went west and I stayed east And I tried my best to sing And I sang Sam and Dave Catch that wave
't no need for that, hustlers and hardcores Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam
roll up, don't understand we I neck-snappin, hard, they can't catch the beat It's just a Suave Dawg steeze Not even thinking twice Just feeling nice,
's you against me Catch a three-hundred and sixty degree Roundhouse to the mouth right And like the sun, make the hot shit shine bright I feelin' like
pack techs 'til my pay looked fat I have bitches transport them llello packs Still the sam ol' nigga, I just slang dope raps Hate, I feel like "so what
in this game, mo' like Peter Parker P-I-M-P, take the P's that I am I want you payin' hoes in my army Like, Uncle Sam and we gon' jam I'm talkin' 'bout
pistol be Top of your forehead the kissl will be Plant it ever so soft and gentle but die viciously Hours of torture before the torture apply misery Days before I feel
think I'm gon' be, what? Rehabilitated, man I still feel hatred I'm young black and rich so they wanna strip me naked, but You never had me like Christina Aguiler-y But catch
with Gotti started makin' classics It?s murder, it?s the courses of traffic Trust was my only niggaz force of habit At the time in the game everything was average Pac catches die, big catches