Spice 1, E-40 - D-Boyz Got Love For Me lyrics

[Spice 1, E-40 - D-Boyz Got Love For Me lyrics]

What's wrong nigga? What's wrong huh?
You scared nigga? You scared?
What, you can't talk with a motherfuckin'
Gun in your mouth nigga?
I'm gonna give you a three count
I'mma blow your motherfuckin' brains out
One, what you think about, what you thinkin'?
Don't cry, two (I don't slip motherfucker)
(Gun blast)
Nineteen motherfuckin' nine-fo' comin' at cha
Gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gi-gangsta Spice
Motherfuckin' 1
(Spice 1) i eat they ass up like
A Swanson with the Thompson
Fo'-fever, leave a -
Motherfuckin' cryin 'fore
He take his last breather
So come along take a trip to the dope track
Where the young niggas be takin' your car
And be peelin' your cap back
That's why it's A to the motherfuckin' K


Keeps a fat gat for the funk in the East Bay
Mainy off 'yac, I'm goin' brain dead inside
Talkin' to my homies 'Scratchy' tellin'
Me he wanna ride
On the nigga that peeled his cap
So now I'm on the streets
With the dead motherfucker in
The passenger seat
And it's fo' to the motherfuckin' five
G-a-gat that ass leave 'em dead in the?eyes?
Red Rum on the late night
Catch my case right at the crack hut
Niggas better back up, while I fix my sack up
Pistol whip, shit, kick that ass quick
Quick to rip shit
Cause, I'm a Coca Cola Classic
OG and D-Boyz got love for me
D-Boyz got love for me

Da-tha-tha da-tha-tha da-tha-tha da-tha-tha
Da-tha-tha da-tha-tha da-tha-tha da-tha-tha

(Spice 1) i'mma chuck a dead body
On your motherfuckin' lawn
Light ya up like Red Dawn
Nigga I be ready to funk it's on
So call up the Paramedics and tell
'em that you're done nigga
I roll strapped with no love
Upon my fuckin' trigger
I lets my hair platt, and took his mail stack
Now he's a stiff black, cause I was?at that?
I'm dumpin' these niggas in
Ditches back to back
Hangin' they ass from telephone posts
To leavin' 'em naked and
Bleedin' without no money
Gun me, ho niggas wanna do that, do that
But, I go out and get a new gat
New gat and let 'em have it
Nigga, so D-Boyz got love for me (E-40)
I got love for D-Boyz
Cause D-Boyz got love for me
I got love for D-Boyz
Cause D-Boyz got love for me
Nigga got outta line I had to chop him
Reached into my drawers and
Pulled out my strap (pull out your strap)
Motherfucker got outta place I
Had to chop him
Reached into my fruit of the looms
And pulled out my strap
(pull out your strap)
Nigga got outta place, youse got to pop him
Reach up in your draws and
Pull out your strap (pull out your strap)
Rookie get outta line you better ice him
Reach into your d dun dun duns
And pull out your strap
(pull out your strap)
Just call me Chef Boyar-D-Boy
Soda for bakin'
Cupcakes and cookies, rappies I'm makin' huh
Tall cash, can't let he cut my grass
Don't make me have to come back and
Split your parents house in half
With my Sig-Sauer P226-Diana Ross cousin
Nina - Mr meaner, body bleeder
Heartless, empty the cartridge roll
Smartless, get out of dodge, so cold
Hollow point hot ones dipped in garlic
I lives at the bar like an Alcoholic
Niggas think that I be bluffin' when I
Tell 'em I'm a good shot
But, I'm also into some other things
Like ice picks and piano strings
Bitch, I'm tryin' to get nigga rich
Open up shop, cotton candy and licorice, uh

40 water, 40 water
Me come to gatcha up and leave with 40 water
Shoot 'em up now 40 water, 40 water
Me come to gatcha up and leave with 40 water
(in this bich)
Blaow! Spiggidy one whippin' up on
Dat ass for nine-four
Da-tha-tha da-tha-tha da-tha-tha
(muthafuckin rumble bitch)
40 water, 40 water
Me come to gatcha up and leave with 40 water
Shoot 'em up now 40 water, 40 water
Me come to gatcha up and leave with 40 water
Byd a bye bye Blaow!
(Spiggity sp, sp, spiggity sp, sp
Spit nigga hahahahaha)
They call me Spiggity one, Spiggity one
Me bust a cap up in your
Ass with big black gun, biddy-a- bye bye
(Spiggity sp
Spiggity Spice one in this bich
E-40 in this bich) yeah man
Me roll down the block with my nigga
40 water, 40 water
Me come to gatcha up and leave with 40 water
Byd-a- bye bye
Spiggidy one whippin' up on dat ass
Yeah man
Livin' in the city is a motherfuckin' task
(This shit will rumble your
Muthafuckin trunk what's a
7-0-7 on er your trunk nigga?) 5-10
(4-1-5's?) , yeah (That's four-fifteens if
Y'all bitches didn't know, yeah bich)
Yeah bitch, stupid ass hoes
(Da-tha-tha, sing it with
Me, da-tha-tha da-tha-tha, ah yeah)

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