Can Not F*** Wit These Gangsta's Album Version (Explicit) E

Man, motherfucker just flew in from the doomville Sinatra. My baggage got lost. Frost got a ticket and uh, Macho just chewed All my ones. Oh no. Now I'm sittin' here arguin' with Scoop about what Color brim he should wear. Hurry up. And the motherfuckin'... Oh, we recordin'? Yeah, man. Hold up. Yeah. You see I rock beats like coke crack. Hope the dope's back and no crack. The pigs ran the place, took the whole sack. But hold that, bitch made, I booked a whole Payday. Was ridin' with Scoop, D, Bizzy through East LA. The eses, these G's'll heat them cannons. You see the truth is before Frost was rich In valleys. I'll get your baggage. I spit flames that keeps maids in big chains While livin' rap dreams since sixth grade. I pimp hoes since my THP days. I rock, bitch, off some EA ski quakes. And boom, my tombstone should read these words. You see my life should define what my CDs' Worth. I'm busy works or some like an Eazy Verse. So listen, don't you practice on these Beasley terms. better not plot. I'm blowin' every day I write. We can flow blow for blow, we can straight Up fight. You punk bitch, you broke, you can Hate all night. With your swap meet throwback and Your K-Mart Nikes. So quit rappin'. Next time I'ma doom you bitches and put a Wrap to this music business, you bitches. Cannot fuck with these gangstas. Cannot fuck with these gangstas. Cannot fuck with these gangstas. Cannot fuck with these gangstas. Yeah, uh, listen, yeah. Now you can give it to the P's, you Can give it to the hustlers. But street credibility is back for you suckers. Not from NY so I ain't speakin' about the Rucker. We ride with eses, Cortez and Chuckers. But that's old cholo funk. We the dudes in them Air Force Ones and The brim like Reverend Run. And got braids when we out in the sun. Like an Aztec tomahawk throwin' the chunks. You a bitch in your heels and pumps. And we got pumps, but the ones that go Dump, dump, dump. With the MAC in the back Of the 'Lac, what up? We modern day eses That'll rough shit up. And all you bald-headed So-called gangstas, you Nazis. I'm a papi like the paparazzi. Lookin' like a skinhead and dog, that's honky. There's nothin' you can do to stop me, I'm Sorry. We spit for the soldiers in this here Army. You can't knock the Frost, Bad Boy, And Charlie. Like Lieutenant Dan, Vietnam can't stop Me. And I'll die with no legs with my G's and colleagues, what? Cannot fuck with these gangstas. Cannot fuck with these gangstas. Cannot fuck with these gangstas. Cannot fuck with these gangstas. It's official, the game ain't the same to me And that's an issue. Try to feel the pain And the things that I been through. You can't knock the hustle, them eses'll get you. Frost got the Mack, DeVille keep them eagles. Bad Boy packin' the fool with our missiles. And every motherfucker in my clique got a pistol. Shoot to kill on anyone that Frost fizzle. Face the fact that I'm back once again, Made LA freeze over. Dog, it's still for La Raza, the game is Over. All you wack cats is just dirt on My shoulder. The ese general, salute me, Sucka. You know the game needs us, we on The come up. Them eses, we about to blow up. Don't get mad if I still do it. 'Cause if Foul Out still raps, then I'ma keep Spittin' that fluid and you... Cannot fuck with these gangstas. Cannot fuck with these gangstas. Cannot fuck with these gangstas. Cannot fuck with these gangstas.