(B-Legit) Influenced by crime, addicted to grindin
(C-Bo) Where I can pile up my chips
(Richie Rich) And niggaz call me a timer
(Tupac) I been ballin since my adolecsent years steady climbin
(E-40) Man, you motherfuckers don't know nuttin about no timin
(Tupac) That's right, that's right boy start that shit off
Verse One: 2Pac
I heard a rumour I died, murdered in cold blood dramatized
Picutes of me in my final stage you know Mama cried
But that was fiction, some coward got the story twisted
Like I no longer existed, mysteriously missin
Although I'm worldwide, baby I ain't hard to find
Why I spend most of my time on California crime
Watching for thievin I'm cautious it's like I'm barely breathin
Puttin a bullet in mutherfuckers give me a reason
See me and hope I'm intoxicated or slightly faded
You tried to play me now homicide is my only payment
I'm addicted to currency in this life I lead
Why the fuck you cowards be runnin, too scared to fight a G
For the life of me, I cannot see
How motherfuckers picture livin life after a night of fuckin around with me
And if you don't like this rhyme
then bring your big bad ass to California, cause we ain't hard to find
Chorus
Verse Two: C-Bo, B-Legit
I got my locs on hard hat goin to war
Breakin them off on sight, stoppin lives like red lights
Watch em pause as I pull my strap, out my drawers
And get to dumpin on they ass, like the last outlaws
Rich, Tupac and the Click, smokin blunts, loadin clips
With enough shit to raise your block in one dip
We bring on horror like Tales From the Crypt
And we ain't hard to find is
