Yeah

Gangsta

Uh



[Verse 1 - Ice Cube]

Tell me all my children

'Fore I come through, is the hood in the building? (yes)

You won't believe what I'm dealin

This West coast shit, oh what a feelin (ah)

Niggaz think I'm drug dealin

'Cause I roll by with no motherfuckin ceiling (none)

Is he worth a hundred million?

No need to ask Ice Cube how I'm livin (how ya livin loc?)

I still got the recipe

South Central LA is the pedigree

Don't try to tell me what it better be

I have your ass up in physical therapy

A outlaw like a Cherokee

The rap industry tried to bury me

But if I died on the mic up at Larry B

I'm so heavy you bitches couldn't carry me



[Chorus - Ice Cube - 2X]

Get money, spend money, no money, lookin like a dummy

(I really don't give a fuck)

Your money ain't my fuckin money, got a pocket full of money

(Come on homie throw it up)



[Verse 2 - Ice Cube]

I don't accept no disrespect

Only thing I expect is self check

Just grin and bare it

Got an ass whoopin that your ass don't wanna inherit

Most rappers are parrots

They say what they told to say, to get a neck full of carrots/karats

Got your mama embarrassed

How long 'fore they callin us terrorists? Nigga, I'm serious

I, keep it gangsta but I keeps a job

'Cause it's, hard to sleep when you steal and rob

And ya, got to run here comes the blob

'Cause, Uncle Sam is like part of the Mob

Break your self he'll take your wealth

Don't get it twisted, you a motherfuckin elf

And Santa Claus will go for self

All you got is your balls and your health



[Chorus - 2X]



[Verse 3 - Ice Cube]

Niggaz brag about what they got

But we don't own a skyscraper, now that's paper (now that's paper)

One generation from slums

Happy for these little crumbs, you little bums

We saw you pull up but nigga shut up (shut up)

You always talkin about a fuckin car or truck

You always talkin about some fuckin rims or interior

That kind of shit'll keep our ass inferior

I'm tryin to eat tomorrow

Ain't tryin to hear about the little bitty shit you bought

Saw your little bitty house on "Cribs"

Where you fuck your wife and feed your kids (uh uh)

Nigga be quiet, ain't shit private

Everything for sale, you can buy it

All this self snitchin, all this self tellin

Motherfuckers goin back to the watermelon



[Chorus - 4X]