That's Ant BEEZY, nigga - off the HEEZY
Is he my nigga? FO SHEEZY nigga!
What, what? Say what, say, say what, say what?
(Kev B in the motherfuckin house)
Say what, say what, say what, say what?
(Bombay all day nigga this is fo-TAY!)
(Bombay all day punk this is FO-TAY NIGGA!)
[Verse One]
Fresh up out the Testarossa
Still buzzin off that sticky green Cali doja
Last night had, way too many bitches jock
Mr. Player himself, gon' always keep it poppin
And stoppin you and yo' ability to come tight, mack like Dolemite
Sometimes you learn the hard way, but you gon' get it right
Keep listenin, discipline plays a strong part
The majority of these bitches ain't got no heart
enough to roll with the punches, hundred dolla bills and brunches
Comin home in somethin way tight that's scrumptious like
steak and lobster, dank from rastas
And we don't roll with nothin but, G's and mobsters!
Zenithes, Daytons, twenty inch chrome ones
Never know the feelin of a bitch 'til you own one!
Yeah we Bay riders, call us, murder for hire
Closer, than hittin home runs than McGwire and Sosa
We supposed to be, killin 'em off, hittin 'em off
with this old ill shit, givin 'em an overdose of this so real shit
So feel this, way down deep up in your liver
Give a, nig a chance for the alcohol to make you quiver
Still a, assassin blastin any nigga who think he can outlast
the master splash yo' ass in a, pool of blood
So ask the, nigga who done rolled up and got his, dome split
(Dome split) I don't give a fuck motherfucker wait 'til the chrome hit!
[Chorus: repeat 2X]
They say you got to have heart
I roll with dese niggaz dey mob figures and killas you niggaz feel us
They say you g
