Verse 1: PS
Never gave a f** and I still don't
So save your lectures, I'mma g**n for the rest of my life
A young BG deranged in the brain
The youngest motherf**er on the chain gang
Yeah I still slang my thangs like a G
Really can I make your a** rest in peace?
No need to waste my energy squabbin
Quick to pull the trigger, put your a** in a coffin
Never been a baller but I trap many ballin
Homies y'know I don't give a f**, I was starvin
You better hide your daughter cos I'm out to get laid with dick
And have her sprung on this black a** n***a
Straight up out the gutter, have her stealin from her daddy and her mother
Sellin rocks to the scandalous a** clockers
Ready to meet my snaps, yeah I'm cool like that
And I never gave a f** about a stupid a** hoodrat
Chorus:
b**hes ridin on my bit
n***as hit me up and sh**
But I'm from the Eastside
Where the n***as do or die
Representin like a dream
Cos Circle's deep I thought you knew
Verse 2: Billy Boy
Uh, uh, uh
As I crack dice from one hood to the next
Doin credit card schemes and cashin hot cheques
I got a 9 for any n***a that come runnin up
Keepin motherf**ers on the duck
You can give a this or that sling, the yea or the tracks
But when your chick starts choking ya, you gots ta break me off
I sweat ya like Keith until ya give me my ends
If a nickel bag is sold in the park I want in
In the middle of the night when the spot's not hot
You can find Billy Boy rollin down your block
Hittin switches cos your b**h is gettin paid, cos that's my way
And all the hoes still wanna f** (You know we do)
I bleed like the next man but when the gat is in my hand
You can bet my monkey a** is comin out on top
LA hustlers can't live without money
So before I make sense I gots ta make a knot
Cos I can't f** without my hoes
And I can't hit no switch without the 6-4
Everybody wanna f** a n***a like me
But I won't be gettin back in the CPT
Chorus:
n***as tryin to give me stuff
Billy Boy don't give a f**
First I warn you with my rhyme
Then I'll f** you with my 9
Don't give your plees cos I don't bang
But I'm down to fully slang
40 Thevz end down your crew
Cos Circle's deep I thought you knew
Verse 3: Coolio
I fold a rapper like a dollar just to hear his punk a** holler
Walk into his hood and grab his homies by the collar
Stock em all up like a pack of punk b**hes
Now I got his whole crew wearin heels and doin dishes
You don't wanna see me out the motherf**in front
Don't you take this sh** for granted just cos n***as call me Cool
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
C-O-O-L-I-O G
M to the A, A to the D
A Circle full of n***as that you don't wanna see
You ain't nuttin but a pistol that's f**in with a missile
I chew your a** like gristle til the ref blows the whistle
Sing a song of six packs, a pocket full of snaps
Ain't no punks in my motherf**in pack
See I use to be broke now I blow indo smoke
First you diss my city then you choke
*cough*
Chorus:
C-O-M-P-T-O-N
Punk motherf**ers get two to the chin
I don't give a f** what'cha got or who you know
Step to the Maadness, your a** gotta go
Ain't a damn thing changed but only the year
East Coast, West Coast get the *?c'reer?*
You don't wanna see my crew
Cos Circle's deep I thought you knew