I got your card, fool, you think that niggas ain't deep

You called me nigga, now my homies put that cracker to sleep

I'm ready to set-trip, nigga, go get your shit

I'm ready to slit, no fuckin joke

Bullet Loc, I'm comin to slit your throat

I'm in the chow hall ( ? ) nigga for pork chops

Wonderin will it ever stop

Black, whites and s.a.'s on ( ? )

But you got your strap and I got my strap and you gon' do your thang

And I gots no love for you cause nigga, you not from my gang

So you take your side and I take my side and ride till we all die

Homicide the opposite of suicide

How does it feel to have that shank in ya?

Ugh, Mr. Ray Dog is gankin ya

Ah, battery pack to the back of the dome

Parole shot me down, so it ain't no goin home

So now I won't see board for a year

But in between I'm loc'in up, shakin a few and drinkin a bottle a of Thorazine

Dazed out, wishin that I could come back

In the rubberroom ass-naked holdin my sack

But no doubt, I gets back out in six months time

They bustin a spread to celebrate, right, back on main line

Bust some flicks for a couple of bitches before I do work

Cause when I'm puttin it down, it ain't no tellin who get hurt

Cause I be kickin up all this dust without no fuckin trigger

So now you understand why no cracker don't call me nigga