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(feat. Kurupt) |
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(Intro: Kurupt) |
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I ain't got a problem with nobody, right? |
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This is Young Gotti, but I got a problem with you |
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Cause you got a problem with me |
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Yeah nigga... keeping it real G'd up |
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Hitting niggaz like +Boo-Yaa!+ punk |
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What the fuck nigga! |
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(Verse 1: Ganxta Ridd) |
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I'm Ridd rhyming, I'm non existant |
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I'm just a daily, first to burn a convalescent |
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I'm the example of learning less |
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I'm spitting possible with two Wesson's, no questions |
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I'm the question with no guessing |
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I'm kind of stressing more pounds than two jurisdictions |
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These rappers don't want prohibition |
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I will convict him |
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I'm the West Coast redemption |
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Target, Coast Ridah, boost eye for an eye |
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My blood line banging until the eight frame die |
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I snuggle up the gun, full grip |
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Them eyes on my dinero, then analyze this |
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Real out the game, send them on their way to re-admit |
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Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E., ain't nothing changed, crowned and convinced |
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Pimp slap bitches and hoes and gangster slap pimps |
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And when I went through, it's that GANGSTER SHIT |
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(Chorus: Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E., Kurupt) |
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(Boo-Yaa) Gangsta, gangsta, gangsta, gangsta.. |
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(Kurupt) You know what I'm talking about |
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(Boo-Yaa) You get them fast then.. |
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(Boo-Yaa) Gangsta, gangsta, gangsta, gangsta.. |
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(Boo-Yaa) This one's on me |
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(Boo-Yaa) Gangsta, gangsta, gangsta, gangsta.. |
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(Kurupt) Gangsta, right? |
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(Boo-Yaa) You get them fast then.. |
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(Boo-Yaa) Gangsta, gangsta, gangsta, gangsta.. |
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(Boo-Yaa) This one's on me |
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(Verse 2: Kurupt) |
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G's, T's, where y'all at? |
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Riders, that's what y'all are (are) |
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I'm a for real front line folder |
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I fold front lines and then push they backs over |
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Mama ain't raised no busters (busters) |
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And mama ain't raised no punks! |
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We'll meet front to front |
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Left the parking lot nigga, see what y'all want (nigga) |
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Ten toes, ten fingertips |
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Niggaz don't really want to trip |
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They want to catch a nigga twenty deep (deep) |
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And catch niggaz thinking they could sleep (sleep) |
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Ain't no sleeping in a G zone nigga |
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BC rider and they every ball nigga |
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Boo-Yaa and Gotti the original, told y'all nigga |
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Yeah run through this motherfucker, G'd up huh? |
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G cut Timbs from the feet up huh? |
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(Chorus: Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. w/ minor variations) |
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(Verse 3: Ganxta Ridd) |
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They love it when I bang through |
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Sex them all like a truce, fade them all like a rendez vous |
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I'm hitting senders like I'm hitting switches |
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Lay bikes like a pipe, play a brick and then they all my bitches |
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Who's that?, y'all niggaz beef |
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It's that motherfucker cause I'm getting plot money |
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Envisioning balls, I'm wishing nuts and jaws |
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Fuck them trick fools that don't want us to ball |
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We street flavor, Blood we all involved |
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I'm all up in the guts quit ticking and crawl |
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Pass the free fall, fuck the free shows |
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Slap the hoe all, paws that explode |
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Motherfuckers die trying mode |
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Ganxta come on call me Ganxta Ridd |
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B.C.D.P. B.T. for sure |
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West West, East Side, .45 reload |
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(Chorus x2: Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. w/ minor variations) |
