[Spice 1]
The trigga gots no heart (The trigga, the trigga)
The trigga gots no heart (The trigga, the trigga)
[Verse 1]
I'm sick up in this game
I'll take no secondary shorts and
Slam dunk these bullets up in yo chest like Jordan
Menace to 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 tech 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
[Hook]
Ain't no love trick, the trigga gots no heart
Ain't no love trick, the trigga gots no heart
[* Gunshot *]
[Verse 2]
Release the trigga as I burn off the nigga
Nina put a cease on his Timex ticker
And the playas he can't give me no love
Cause I'm stuck on the corner 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 takin' up a hobby
Maniac murdering, doin' massacre robberies
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
[Hook]
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 don't give me my pay up
Ain't no love trick
Ain't no love trick,
Me shootin' him up, me shootin' him up
If he don't give me my pay up
Ain't no love trick
[Verse 3]
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 homie, seen his face crack
Oozie 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 mail stack and let my hair platt
But my sweet sweet Sunday had to turn tart
His posse came and their 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 man
comin' at yo' ass wit no love
Blam! Fuck ya man Pussyclot man
187 thousand G
