The Game, Sean T - Gutta Boyz lyrics

(We gangsta daddy)

Yuh!
I'm sippin on that 'notiq the
Color of Hulk man
And the blueberry smoke got a nigga twerkin
You niggaz is perkin - so you doin it big?
You roll deep but when I see you
It's just you and your kids
I roll sick
My rims feel like helicopter propellers
And my pockets run deep like a Mercer teller
Haters trip when they see the whip dippin by
The paint on it change like the I95
I'm just Clyde, without the Bonnie
I got the hollowpoint
Heat for you niggaz and the
Po' for the mamis
Sean Gotti, I'm puttin an end to camraderie
I'm lettin off heat
'til them eyes get watery
Some gon' ricochet, some gon' hit
Y'all gon' get 'em
Fluids gon' disperse out like
Refreshin club serum
I'm deadly as bite venom but
I'm far from a snake
I'll hit you up on your birthday
While you cuttin your cake

We gangsters nigga; you see the cars
The whips
The chains, the fuckin broads we with
We gangsters nigga; we'll come
Through your hood
A hundred deep and empty the whole clip
We gangsters nigga; we got guns for the beef
And my niggaz'll put you under the street
We gangsters nigga; so you better
Watch what you say
'Fore I empty the whole glock in your face

Streets is tough
But ain't no hopscotch lines on the ground
Just burner shells, and police siren sounds
Niggaz know who I am in the
Town; it ain't a circus
But it might as well be
Cause you know I'ma clown
I'm a terrain boss
I know most niggaz envious dawg
And if a nigga owe me change
You better give me it dawg
If you feelin like you wanna leap
Make like a frog
You niggaz lame
Transparent like Wonder Woman's plane
I'm a stunna in this game, a federal figure
Blowin doj' in the hummer
50 K on my fingers
I'm like a NASCAR winner
Poppin Mo' and Bill
D-Squad don't give a fuck about nobody else
I pull a [?] to contain your whole
Clique for hours
The end result will probably be
Pinewood and flowers
So I'll advise you deduct
Your QP's and powder
We gangsters and we jackin cowards (yup)

S.T. nigga D-Squad, G.G.D
Don't get it twisted motherfucker
Yeah we do creep
We ride out thug, shit we don't die
We lay low like mechanics tryin
To fix up rides
A lot of cats say I'm sick in the head
When I anger it's on
Poodles gon' be up missin or dead
I chop haters up, like an old-ass sample
Or creep through your village
Like Stallone in "Rambo"
I'm like piranhas on red meat
I'm on you niggaz
You afros? Then I guess I
Got to comb you niggaz
So break bread
When you see me dawg hit the flo'
I'm like a nigga off the X, unpredicta-ble
Imitators always hollerin how gangsta they is
But got about as much courage as
The Lion in "The Wiz"
Shit I'm into pullin shanks on
You fake Jake cats
Me and my burner hold it down
Man we go way back