Lyrics:
I ain't takin no shit on my cuts
The UGK posse got the big big nuts
Yo, so who's a bold bitch?
Try to make a sale
You betta bail
Before they
gettin' drunk, start shit, drinkin' sixty-four's
I brought a liter. Where's your posse?
Smack your fuckin' ho. I got your bitch on my dick
Because I'm
your nine
Boy I call that kick door
I stick those
Bitches in my trunk
And now we back to my hood
Don't want the left they die yet
But he wishin' he would
Well I really keep that high on, my mind ride,
Ride to the darkside feel the darkness
East ninety nine, mine the thugs I loves 'em heartless
Yeah
gon' take, nine-hundred-thousand in clear
Takin with a clear, I don't need a Benz this year
Took care of my paperwork
Takin United Taxi out to Vegas
case
Roamin through the muthafuckin Black Haven area
Prophet is my Posse, I doubt you see something scarer
Plenty talk shit, but they ain't nothing but
ass got tossed
By the mafia king, you were hung by the boss
Havikk, my felonious pitch will lynch a bitch
Smoke and choke any punk on a off-stroke
jump you're soft and try to punk
Cause I'ma hit you in the face with it
I got a posse of crews to serve blues if you fuck with it
Yo, the Prode'je spoke
Been brutally murdered by the Jungle
Posse police seem to be baffled to
The whereabouts of these four suspects
D-Money easily spotted in
Candy burgundy
in my dms Im not gon reply
Slymir with the ball he got shoot call him Sly
Ima wild boy shoutout D Momo and Khi
We gon go camouflage then blitz you like
ya fans
I got some niggas thats fake by my side
They moving in silence the move with the ride
How could you niggas go talk to my guys
You moving off
off the pier
Glock full of guts, steady buckin' butts
Lettin' moonlight in your head-pull-puds
Def Jam in your ass for the jams
You've got posse
the feeling"
[C.Gee] Word up, 4-3 Mission posse in effect
"You've got the feeling"
To my man Tim Southfield
? my next door neighbor
Hollywood House
carton
You could still feel chills from the team
On 118, my nigga Ben fly by like it's a dream
His face on his Shirt Kings
Laced in a pinky ring, in
Scorchin Niggaz is my posse, try to stop me
Brotha Lynch keeps me tremendous
Tall Can keeps me tremendous
X-Raided keeps me tremendous
And these be my
the posse
It's a motherfuckin' party every timin' that we link up
This the tribe got respect for everybody
But not everybody 'round me really wanna see
and mayonnaise, and we smoke always
Passing by these haters like we got all A's
[Backbone]
Say say say say Crack, what's the word on the street?
Nothing but
baseball bat
Got no pussy posse up on my shit
Self made motherfucker, I'm rich
'Cause I've spit the illest shit you ever heard in your life bitch!
Caught up
on the street, never carry a nine
Hit your heart and leave you staggerin like moonshine
Get ill as shit, shootin' celo
Got so much money, think I'm sellin' by
wet ya whole posse up,
Hating ass crackers wanna lock me up, hating ass critics wanna take my down
The king of this street shit, this G shit, Boosie
it
[Chorus:SPM
The night shift
Young hustlers workin grave yards
The night shift
Street soldiers workin grave yards
My nine be
Beside me
Tonight we
my nine
Know that i've got Jasmine on my mind
Ohhhhh
(Verse Two)
Word up ain't nothin changed but the weather
Still chasin them suckas in the '86
better like a fine wine
Inscribe lines to quiet the panic inside of my mind
I'll diss you like nine times, clip you by your lifelines
In my prime, I'm
never liked ya keep a thousand yards stiff
When I'm mashin by, ya pussy posse ain't gon' appear
Like if I hopped out, told ya to run yo shit playa
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