Nigga Gots No Heart

A nigga gots no heart (a nigga a nigga)

I'm sick up in this game

I'll take no muthafuckin' shorts and

Slam dunk these riddles up in yo' ass like Jordan

Menace II Society muthafuckin' killer

Just call me the East Bay Gangsta

I'm yo' real ass nigga

Quick to make decisions and I'm

Quick to get my blast on

Do a 187 with this muthafuckin' mask on

Rollin' up out the cut deeper than Atlantis

Tore his chest apart left his heart on the canvas

Now I gots mo' mayo than the rest of the pushers

Rat a tat tat tat came my Tec from the bushes

I blast with no heart 'cause I'm heartless in nine-trey

A-K blast on that ass if in my way, nigga

Slangin' 'Cola since the very very start

Much love for this game so a nigga gots no heart

Ain't no love bitch

A nigga gots no heart

Release the trigga as I blast on a nigga

Nina put a cease on his Timex ticker

And uhh playas he can't give me no love

'Cause I'm stuck on the corna in the ghetto

Slangin' dub sacks

And I duck when they fly by

'Cause Killa Cali' is the state for the drive-by

Caps peel from the gangstas in my hood

Ya better use that nina

'Cause that deuce-deuce ain't no good

And umm I'm taking up a hobby

Murdering muthafuckas and massacre robbery

I'm twenty-two and I'm still slangin' dub sacks

I gives the fiend some love but ain't no love back

Much love in this game ain't no love nigga

187 is a art 'cause a nigga gots no heart

Ain't no love bitch

A nigga gots no heart

Ain't no love bitch

Me shootin' him up me shootin' him up

If he no give my pay

Ain't no love bitch

A nigga gots no heart

And I'll be damned if I'm broke old

Pushin' on a shoppin cart

They blast on a friend of me

Another sad case of a mistaken identity

12 O' clock andmy 'hood's dubbin' pay back

I sat and watched them shoot my nigga

Seen his face crack

Uzis spray like Raid on these cockroaches

A dropped bomb full of 187 soldiers

Doin' dirt 'cause we dirty when the trigga pull

Seventeen up in that nigga left his body full

Of hollow tips so I know he won't be comin' back

I let my mail stack and let my hair platt

But my sweet sweet Sunday had to turn tart

His posse came and them niggas had no heart

Me kill all man say kill all man say

Kill 'em all man kill 'em all with me Glock Glock

Kill all man say kill all man say

Kill 'em all man kill 'em all with me Glock Glock

Kill all man say kill all man say

Kill 'em all man kill 'em all with me Glock Glock

Yeah mon blam! The 187 fact man

Comin' at yo' ass wit no love

Blam! Fuck ya man Pussyclot man

187 thousand G