Lyrics:
Uncle Howie! V.s.p Records With Psycho Logical Shit!
(Sabac Red)
The Revolution Is Now!!!! Now!!! Now!! Now! Now....
[Kool Keith]
Raising levels Jim
Flight seven oh four three two one red four
Green expanding to one
Moving levers up at seven decimal
P: bitch, this p world here, bitch, ain't man except me.
I ain't comin for no coffee beans, straight up coke and weed, bitch
Here go the money. you
a fucking drive-by
Riggety rolled on them slow in the Cadillac
Silkk behind the wheel, me and King in the pack
Master P in the passenger seat getting
(Verse 1: Snoop Dogg)
Drop the bomb, ring the alarm
We are here to do bottly harm
Now grab your girl
And run along
'Cuz you'll meet with me by
of the click
All you suckas want to dis the pacific
But you buster n****s never get specific
Used to love her mad cause we f***ed
Her p**** whipped b****
Really in the field you just rap about the turf
Coming out of Cali serving packs by the P
Talk about the bay then you know about me
Came from the slumz,
P man
How you doin' man? My name is Frankie Anto, man
But my friends, they call me Frank B
Oh word man? Nice to meet you, man
So yo man E, what
P man
How you doin' man? My name is Frankie Anto, man
But my friends, they call me Frank B
Oh word man? Nice to meet you, man
So yo man E, what
hahahahaha
that nigga Master P back in the house for the 9 5 shot
well take a step into this madness that we call the dope game
Richmond
knock it
Watch me pop it and lock and drop it upon your head with a pound of lead
Now go drop dead
Venetian Red it
Oh, I said it
My bedhead is so
the field lil nigga, you second string
Take a pint of wockiesha, and give her a wedding ring
Draw down with the stick, paint shit red like I'm coloring
Come
rocket
Yh
How you more Hateful than grateful
Ur moving like bad p*ssy bruh It's distasteful
Stress on mind Woooes I got a plateful
My patience
cameras on the red lights
Speed past em, bust a quick right
Tote glocks ain't come for no hand fight
I walk em down this glock hit
2's n 3's and p's n q's
a fuck, nah
I don't give a fuck
High class nigga, all I smoke is A plus
Might blow a whole P, nigga
I don't give a fuck
Girl on my lap, she say she wanna
nigga just caught body, caught body
My young nigga just caught body
T Jeezy
I'm bout it, bout it
Like Master P
You heard by me, I'm TTG
A nigga street
I walk with the waves of New York City, X-rayed into my back As I floss every step that doesn't
Taste like food These red bricks have a funny way
sins
Cause I try not to let the devil win
But sometimes, the flesh give in
But you know how that shit go
Keep it P, get in that mode
You would think I'm
sliding by
But hit the weed tip first cause my clique got to be riding high
Cause it feels so good
[Chorus]
It feels so good how we kick it in the hood
I got a line at the door
That mean I gotta break 'em off somethin'
I got that cream just like P
But you know it's gonna cost somethin'
Do some
This life that I live
It's really not easy
I wanna stack gwop
I don't wanna catch feelings
I have to make bands, I have to make P
All these bad
then you could leave
You ain't no V.I.P
Stop gassing yourself, like BP
My pockets obese so
Shorty gon' pull up on me
She know I stay with the tree
I
matching or this to the face
Trying to see who pockets I could break
If he Playa im a P so baby is you finna bust a date
Pour that Casa in my Zemonade
Don't
100 p's he played the lane with me
Most of the time I ain’t even got change really
From the cloth
It’s T.O. Not Jefe I be Jefe my nigga
And Don’t you
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