Gas Chamber

[Chorus]. Check mothafuckin' 1 check 1-2. Shoot a muthafucka down what a nigga do. Check 1 check motherfuckin' 1-2. Shoot a muthafucka down what a nigga do.

Fucked In The Game

Murder, murder, murder muthafuckas. Yeah, I'm short, but my boys cause ruckus. It's the nigga that's icey like a Popsicle. It's like the jail when it comes to clockin' every nickel.

Funky Chickens

Yeah nigga. Mothafuckin' East Bay Gangster. Back in your mothafuckin' face. Rollin in my mothafuckin' chicken coupe. Mothafuckin' black-on-black caddy.

Faces Of Death

Ay bwoy, ay, this is this is. . 187, the 187, the (chill man) 187. The 187, the 187, the 187 (187). The 187, the 187, the bloaw!. (jump up in the house man, chill man).

Fetty Chico & The Mack

Blaow Blam 187. Straight murder display from LA to the Bay. Westside, My nigga Spice 1 aka Fetty Chico. And I'll be Mack 10 aka Mack Manson. What up Spice.

Dumpin' Em In Ditches

Ratta to the motherfuckin' tat is how I stomp this. Much love for niggas that's sleepin up in the darkness. Cause I'm a crooked nigga 2 like Pac. I do a 1-8-7 with this motherfuckin' glock.

East Bay Gangster

Welcome to the ghetto,. And this is the place,. Young niggas be throwin'. They rocks up in my face. My homey G be yellin' yo this like a holdup,. I'm pullin' my gat to make.

Face Of A Desperate Man

Smellin' stale fresh out the county jail. Coppers gave me hell in a cell. But now its Mo' Murder to make mail. They thought my heart was playin' life at a different pitch.

Drama

(kokane). Ah yeah. . Murder is a part of the game and the jealous got me strapped. Crunch nappy sack, sick homies who got my back. Dead bodies, handcuffs, and house rage.

Droopy Skit

Don't Ring The Alarm

It's the motherfuckin' heist so don't ring the alarm 'G'. It's the B-O-S-S and the S-P-I-C-E. So, put this gat in your pants (right). And we gonna rob these motherfuckers.

Doncha Runaway

Now don't you run away from my Glock. You can't dodge seventeen mothafuckin' shots. Could somebody pass me a clip and a trigger. Walk across the party pistol whip a nigga.

Club Skit

Dirty Bay

Born to die but hard to kill a buh buh ballin' ass timer. Blow a hole up in your chest like the fuckin' Una Bomber. Your arms still bleedin' fifty feet from your body.

City Streets

Yeah. Spice muthafuckin' One. Coolin' in Cali. Kickin' that gangsta shit. You get with it?. . Hopped in my Blazer, mashed off and left a boy in his car, then.

Clip & The Trigga

Yeah, the motherfuckin east bay gangster back in the house. A.k.a. mr. kill yo' ass. 187 fac mothafucker. Nine-trey. G-nut in the motherfuckin house. Big john on that goddamn bass.

Can I Hit It?

I peep your thighs when I look in the car. Baby, you ain't got to be on my shoulder to be a star. Ain't a trick honey, 'cause tricks is for pimps and hoes.

Can U Feel It

Ugh, yeah. (can you feel it baby?). Ugh, yeah. (can you feel it baby?). Ugh, yeah. (I want to know). . Here I come steppin'. Tha murder weapon. Cappin' off safety.

Break Yourself

Aye yo Spice, all these rich motherfuckers keep going to. The record stores buyin' these fake ass raps,. You know what I'm sayin'?. Yeah, yeah, I hear you byte all that fake shit.

Busta's Can't See Me

One eighty seven, the one eighty seven. The one eighty seven, the one eighty seven bloaw!. One eighty seven, the one eighty seven, the one eighty seven.