Trigga Gots No Heart

The trigga gots no heart (the trigga a trigga)

I'm sick up in this game

I'll take no secondary shorts and

Slam dunk these riddles up in yo' chest like jordan

Menace ii society mad man killer

Just call me the east bay gangsta

Neighborhood drug dealer

Quick to make decisions and I'm

Quick to get my blast on

Do a 187 with this bloody jason 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, gangsta

Slangin' 'cola since the very very start

Much love for this game so the trigga gots no heart

Ain't no love trick

The trigga 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

Maniac murderin' doin' 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 gangsta

187 is a art 'cause the trigga gots no heart

Ain't no love trick

The trigga gots no heart

Ain't no love trick

Me shootin' him up me shootin' him up

If he no give my pay

Ain't no love trick

The trigga 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 and my 'hood's dubbin' pay back

I sat & watched them shoot my homey

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 in his body left the boy full

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

I let my hair platt and let my mail stack

But my sweet sweet Sunday had to turn tart

His posse came and they triggas 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

Is back in the house man for nine-trey

This here see kill a man wit me Glock

Blow! 187 thousand g