Nah like no gangsta, nah like no gangsta, come again
Nah like no gangsta, nah like no gangsta, follow me
Nah like no gangsta, nah like no gangsta, because
When I was a youth, just a little youngster
Gangsta killed mi mother and killed mi father
They kill my sister and kill mi brother
Bo! bo! and them get shot down
Bo! bo! and them get shot down
Never given a chance to enhance
And advance to the mic stand
Because of the craft and the path of a state pen
The thought of if white being black is a syllable
Beginning at birth, yeah, I begin at the physical
The scenery's grim, fakes float like phlegm
I keep the G to myself, made a vow, no friends
Cause people you trust, all lies and propaganda
Slick man slander, talk like Sandra
( *to the beat of Kris Kross' 'Jump'* )
Fake one, wanna-be, clocked, your dead ass knocked
Shell-shocked, two shots, heart'll be your next stop
Weak mouth leak out, smack what you breathe out
Now whose fault when it's hard, get your knees down
You cheat, got a new trick cause that's what you do
When you're in jail zero got more stuff than you do
You wail like a ( ? ) and echo the vicinity
Can't handle the time cause the judge gave you infinity
Life, that's what you get for your everyday hustle
Ropes and a handyman couldn't pull your luck up
Wanna be the trigger figure, critter with the Tec
Banned for tryin to ( ? ) your mom's neck
You couldn't get a ( ? ) for that stuff you yell out
Killin your own just to make bones, now that's a sell out
But who's the bigger pussy, just like a panther
I'm just lettin you know - so you wanna be a gangsta
( *to the beat of Cypress Hill's 'Hand on the Pump'* )
Wanna-be gees try to be what they can't be
Cause what you can't be you try to be cause you'se the wanna-be
So play the back like a fallback, in the back
But way back before I break your muthafuckin back
And my foot off in your ass if you don't step off
Cause when I go off I sound like a sawed-off
So stop actin like you're packin a Mac ( ? )
And gangsta rap ain't what's happenin
And that means you and you, know what you can do
If you don't like what I'm sayin, but in the meanwhile fuck you
I'm ( ? ) so save the killer talk and just walk
Before I walk all over your ass just like a sidewalk
You ain't got nothin comin but a bad break
So why try, you fry, that's a big mistake
On your behalf I told you you couldn't last
But the thought that I was trickin, now guess who gets the last laugh
( *to the beat of Ice Cube's 'My Summer Vacation'* )
8 down brothers on a prison tip
You wanna be a gangsta just swingin the clip
You come to Rahway, you be suckin my dick
After a little whille I make you my bitch
I'm not a [edited] and I don't like ( ? )
While you're sittin in a leather chair gettin your ass fired
There goes the prison, there goes the prison
( *to the beat of ( ? )* )
Niggas that life to riff but don't really have the gift
I come across because my style'll switch swift
Criminal background, I can go underground
Pound for pound every lyric I throw down
Cause this is a showdown, suckers I mow down
They rush like ( ? ) when I go ( ? )
One by one, come all or plenty
Cause when I do a show, boy, I kill many
Weak punk rappers, camouflagin fakes
I'll down a sucker and I won't be late
Come back and translate the jams I elevate
Now watch me operate, see how I demonstrate?
To all deceivers a make-believer
Your falsing trickery is no longer mystery
And if you want bitchery, and if you want bickery
And if you want victory, just try to get with me
To be an O.G. (you had to be an O.G.)
To be an O.G. (you had to be an O.G.)
To be an O.G. (you had to be an O.G.)
To be an O.G. (you had to be an O.G.)
To be an O.G. (you had to be an O.G.)
To be an O.G. (you had to be an O.G.)
To be an O.G. (you had to be an O.G.)
To be an O.G. (you had to be an O.G.)
( *to the beat of the Geto Boys' 'Mind Playing Tricks on Me'* )
I'm the M-a-x-w-el-l
Swiftmaster, sucker, now that spells Maxwell
And what I kick here ain't just another fairytale
I wrote this shit so others wouldn't have to
Go through the things that Max had to
I know a many of gangsters on the street
Some in a jail cell, the others six feet deep
( *to the beat of King Tee's 'Played Like a Piano'* )
Holdin your breath when I mess with the mess rap
You coulnd't get jack but a backsmack, none cap
Flackin that flack while there's ( ? ) talk bull
Comin to battle with a rattle, havin no pull
( ? ) and boot-lickin, kickin your bullshittin
Jack in a box ( ? ) your face-splittin
Servin up lumps to your ( ? ) you wanna ( ? )
Rather duck ( ? ) to get ( ? ) you duck none
Mister blister, dismiss, kiss the
Head on my nine, not a crime to kill a bigger nigga
Critter-digger, trigger mouldin your head figure
Little bum you're ( ? ), I leave that ass rid of
Asshole, Lord knows what I wrote ( ? )
Kick one lifetime and it's time to hold
More grounds than the bounds of a highway
Cause I say it my way, ah fuck it in Rahway
