Master P
Master P - I'M A Gangsta lyrics
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Why you lean when you walk, look mean when you talk Keep that green in the vault -- we some gangsters nigga White tees on the block, 23's on the drop And you keep them thangs cocked -- cause we some gangsters nigga My lifestyle gangster, I'm from the gutter, the bottom nigga I learned the game but it wasn't from Godfather Pop'll slide up beside ya nigga, take ya block nice My neighborhood like I'm Mr. Rogers, nigga Nigga here to "Lean Back," but you know I'm not Joey nigga I give you work, better pay me what you owe me nigga Befo' a nigga expose the trigger And have you mobbin it like you gone off of 'dro and liquor I'm a bonafide hustler, certified gangster Wile E. Coyote keep one up in the chamber To bang your frame up, hot thang rearranger My pistol pointin at niggaz like Mystikal, "DANGER!" And momma told me not to talk to strangers So I let the heat speak out and bark to strangers I got that Doublemint heat, how I pack two thangs And red hot, now let the Black Sopranos spend knot It ain't hard to tell, you know I get cake The sound system in my six-fo' sound like I kidnapped a earthquake The Jakes want me off the road Cause I got enough bricks to land me in jail without parole Don't fold under pressure, I don't even do my own dirt I got connects with the mob out in Russia I'll rush ya, blast the 8, fuck bein grimy I'm too cute to get a scar on my face I spend cake like a fashionable dude Catch me, G'd up, in a P. Miller khaki suit It's No Limit how I'm movin these pies The Chuck Taylor patent leather, with a pic of Eazy-E on the side I'ma ride, fuck tuckin my jewels and the chain Got a cross, that's brighter than a Harvard student I'm improvin, gettin better Took off the chinchilla I'm in mink like a smooth guerilla Okay, the definition of a GANGSTER, mouth closed Guns out, clip loaded, aim lock shots bang ya Never serve shit to a stranger Undercovers comin in for arrangers, watch for the danger Watch for them haters they filled with anger They try to steal your shine if they can't steal your paper Niggaz mad cause the kid doin it major I'm gunnin for the top, gun cocked with the laser They call me young Rug', yeah that's my name I do work for P. Miller, No Limit the game You C-Murder on the block, it's the Soldiers mayne Black Sopranos leave you slumped in the car of your dreams And my location, I'm in the Cali breeze Smokin on that good, no stems no seeds I lay low with the baddest brawl I got a record deal but the hood still breakin me off