[Featuring SPice 1 2Pac Mac Mall]
  Verse One: E 40
  I'm really not all that sure
  bout when things is finna mature
  So let me find me a nigga with a grip
  and hit his ass quick with one of them whoops
  (What's the definition of a lick?)
  Taking a niggaz shit
  (Hey put that on sumthin)
  I put that on The Click The Click
  Back to fuckin work one of the homies jus got dusted
  Time to do some dirt uhh I never trusted
  them bustas shot him in the shirt, dead on arrival
  Now the town is funky, it's called survival
  What y'all wanna do? They got us scuffled
  (bullet high, get in your eye) if this was a fifth well I be drunk
  I'm heated, them niggaz cheated, played me false
  We had em eatin, shit 'posed to been squashed
  I noticed one killa on the double dribble and set him up y'all
  She likes the Monie in the Middle, play tetherball
  Thick ass bitch, high yellow city-slicker
  Scarecrow creepin Southern bitches, aka Posie Pussyfictious
  Verse Two: Spice-1
  Nigga been holdin guts, but shit on hisself and a funky bill
  Pullin out bills, frontin on material shit
  that's when I get to killin shit (killin shit)
  And settin 'im up and havin 'im catchin a couple of slugs
  Sl-uh sl-uh slugs, trynta fuck with savage thug
  Pistol pop in they ass, see niggaz be gettin this twisted
  It's that bitch that killed ya
  Took all your money peeled ya
  Seven niggaz bust in the room with AK's
  while a nigga be puttin on his jimmy
  All of a sudden they shoot up your Vuitton
  before you can hit the broccoli
  See money-a-made that nigga, that nigga didn't make that money
  Left them niggaz jacked up, and the bitch she macked him
  He's a busta, punk ass nigga, y'all know the streets
  That's why that nigga naked layin dead in between some bloody sheets
  It's just a part of the game he didn't feel
  Bitches will kill, fuck a nigga, out his last d-uh dollar bill
  You don't know that hoe main that bitch can't be trusted
  Dusted and di-motherfuckin-sgusted
  Chorus: E-40
  Some cold hearted shit
  Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
  Whacha'll wanna do, whacha'll wanna do
  Cold hearted bitches
  Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
  Whacha'll wanna do, I never trusted them bustas
  Some cold hearted shit
  Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
  I never trusted them bustas
  And it's them cold hearted bitched
  Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
  Dusted and disgusted
  Verse Three: E-40, 2Pac
  Let's let of some two or threes on the other side of t-uh-town
  Draw the attention on the other s-uh-side of town (other side of town)
  And wait for the po-po shift to change, ghetto shootin range
  Revenge on the r-uh-rebound, war games
  Droughts, out, shhh lost clientele but I will prevail
  by sellin the broccoli dank instead of the crack cocaine
  try not to steal narcotics
  When these punk MC's and bitches be the reason why
  the smoke be comin up out the chow, with my nigga Pac
  Dear God, can you forgive me? My future's lookin sick
  I'm in my rag hittin switches I'm suspicious of these bitches
  I keep on, calllin, but ain't nobody pickin up
  I think she's stallin, this evil bitch is tryin ta set me up
  Came all alone if it's on then it's on
  Where's my motherfuckin chrome, only jealous niggaz roam
  It's a war zone (war zone) but I'm a man so with gun in hand
  I'm on my way to see this hoe you know the fuckin plan
  Can't understand, but the things ain't the same
  You could die over these bitches if you slippin in the game
  Niggaz gang bang, but bitches gang bang too
  Give up that good thang, and put that pistol to your brain
  If you was smart figure, don't have no love in your heart nigga
  Any complications pull the trigger, dusted and disgusted
  Bitches can't be trusted, you know the rules
  They underhanded, she planned it, you fuckin fool
  (These hoes out here tryin to hold a nigga's heart
  So a nigga get his money fucked with
  Almost in-laws)
  Hey be proud of it when you turn these bitches upside down
  What's gonna happen
  (Uhh, three and a half dollars or probably fo' if
  a bitch ridin)
  (Yeah main, them hoes talented
  They be fuckin with mo' MC's at Jack the Rapper)
  (Aight fuck it, what you say Mall?
  Ay, fuck them sheisty ass bootches, nigga)
  Verse Four: Mac Mall, Spice-1, E-40
  The California lifestyle that I live
  Where the bitches is crooked and niggaz jus don't give
  A flyin fuck, so I stay stuck, smokin on the tay-low
  Bay Area playa, tryin ta have shit major
  And a bitch won't save ya
  so I ain't playin Captain Save a Hoe
  I mob up in ya like a pro and then I'm gone
  I'm like Sylvester Stallone, everyday is like a Cliffhanger
  Action packed, I let the mini-mac smack that ass
  Them hoes jacked that ass
  Nigga woulda got smokin on that hash
  Can't have my cash, better go and take your nigga stash
  Cuz he's a busta, niggaz with clusters
  Slippin in shit, betta jack that nigga 'fore I jack his ass bitch
  Never was no love for the mark-ass, the lo pink (the lo pink)
  You love them Bootsy bitches, can't let them pussy bitches
  gank that ass, betta hide your cash and check her fast
  Pump your brakes nigga, slow your roll don't go too fast
  Cause bulletproof ain't doin no good no mo' no mo' no mo' no mo'
  now, niggaz comin up dead with they brains blew out on the fuckin
  floor
  damn, hollow points to flesh tears through the teflon vest
  Now r-uh-rest
  Pull a plug on a flatline over those, one nigga less
  One nigga less, from coast to coast, to the East to the West
  Crushin the flesh, dem bitches played a game of death
  Look over your shoulder watch your back don't even trust it
  I'm tryin to told ya end up dusted
  Chorus