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Master P

Genres: Hip-Hop

Time For A 187 Lyrics - Master P

-uhhh, niggas than fucked up 

-nigga, its time to roll 

-pass me them nigga chasers 

-time to do a 187 

-its time for a murder 

-if you a g nigga, load your shit up 

Some nigga got some bad ice cream, came short on the d-zough 

bout to hit the window gats out the window 

and goin crazy, niggas can't phase me 

if you come up short, niggas bout to read daisies 

this your final call, i mean your final breath 

and when i hit you with that tech i'm bout to put you to rest 

i'm crazy, psycho and outie 

niggas can't fuck with me the set is fuckin cloudy 

lay your ass face down on your stomach 

you know you dead for fuckin with my money 

p don't take no shit 

everyday all day i'm breakin bread 24/7 

tryin to get paid 

and lose these hoes in the dope game 

cause i be crazy, psycho call me the murder man 

hustla, balla put you in the funeral parlor 911 in your pager 

and haul you, and when you call back you dead bitch 

you bust up my chevy and missed now who you playin' with 

its time to face death 

last smoke, last dash you last jump 

i'ma let you live, psyche 

Chorus: 

it's time for a 187 (drive slow, dim the lights) 

i think i see the enemy (time to do this) 

a 187 (drive slow) 

i think i see the enemy (dim the lights) 

a 187 (time to do this) 

i think i see the enemy (roll down the window) 

this will be your last drink, nigga (roll down yo window) 

Just did a who-ride, meaning a homicide 

did a drive-by fuck it i'm from the southside 

to richmond, california niggas don't give a fuck 

but if you come shizzort, you in that black truck 

get you nose swollen, i mean your neck broken 

when we break you off that 44, face down cause it's danger 

niggas from the south keep one up in the chamber 

i mean we g's 

who you be, what set you with 

nigga do you know me 

if you don't you dead 

ain't no love for cockroaches, cause roaches get sprayed 

and ain't no fear in my heart cause i'm tru, bullets in my vein 

see my tattoo, tru cross my stomach 

eyes hella-red been up all night countin drug money 

but ready to roll with my homies 

and after the party, once again its on g 

Chorus 

I'm gone off that doja, i think i see dem' rollers 

that ain't gon' stop me from takin your head off your shoulder 

i'm from the projects, we live a eye for eye 

when you fuck with mine's you gotta die 

and if your name get scratched off the wall bitch 

there you go, just took a fall trick 

when that no limit tank start hittin' 

nigga them gats start spittin, good riddance 

you better run like "the running man" 

but if you ain't schwarzenegger, bitch this your last game 

that beam at your forehead 

i don't give a fuck, you can't run from the infrared 

and when i catch you, you murdered 

lying on you back, stuck like a turtle 

got cho' head weaving and wobbling 

crying, you scared to die you slobbin 

you beggin for you life 

i'm a give you somethin to make you feel alright 

Chorus 

 

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