Six Million - We Ain't Done Yet lyrics

(Mausberg:) Yo yo n***a, where they at now? (Dresta:) Where they at? (Mausberg:) Black Tec n***a (Dresta:) I don't see 'em Berg (Mausberg:) The young hogs, n***a [Mausberg] Y'all n***as ain't ready for Berg to drop bomb Blowin' your block up and I'm hot like napalm Crumble yo wack sh** then I mash with my sceptor Hollywood n***as I'm ready to chin check ya Yo the Berg is on some different type sh** Gangsta Trey packin' the all black pistol grip My n***as be on some ill sh** Graduated from g**nin' now we k**in' over real sh** South Pacific, the place that they terrified of Black Tec gangstas, low lights and real thugs My dogs bit the hoes, ready for war Brigade of young n***as wit' calicos and .44's But them wack n***as claim they bring pain You cowards better stick to bein' hard in the rap game 'Cuz on the streets I'm the Don-mega A rider from k**er Cali and I'm sayin' f** whateva Chorus: How can you roll in California With all that disrespect and not get wet? This Compton, Cali where the saga begun And motherf**er we ain't done yet How can you roll with all that disrespect In California and not get wet? This Compton, Cali where the saga begun And motherf**er we ain't done yet [Dresta] I'm goin' out on the first rapper blabbin' at the mouth And if you try to hide from me n***a I'm gafflin' your spouse (come here b**h) You cannot run from what has been done from day one My words spread like plague and tread like lead in the wind So holla holla if you really got a problem Meet the problem solver, chrome .44 revovler In fact I'm packin' my strap this very minute Usin' 2Pac image, I'm feenin' 100 pecent to blaow Yo style is blaow-ted, n***as thinkin' you wild I know you thinkin' f** Dresta, but never thinkin' out loud You little b**h a** wannabe thug with baby muscles Me and Mausberg gonna muscle you bustas outta your hustle Compton, California is original Most popular thugged-out nation where riders never vacation I stay packin' the floor thinkin' of more ways to gaffle your b**h up and spit you down in four ways Chorus [Mausberg] I'm still sayin' f** y'all, realest until I fall Pistol packin' car jackin' rider 'til I back on some extreme sh** Leavin' the car full of rappers leakin' Got my fly on, so f** them old people peekin' I'm tired of rap n***as goin' Hollywood And running off at the mouth and wanna kick it like its all good I'm the superior, super spaced-out on cloud nine Hash and mushrooms got a n***a mind And ain't no tellin' when I might go pop Fifty cal layin' n***as down, only one shot My book is full of heavy hitters Thrashers and ready to mash ya on commadn on Maus master Y'all n***as don't want no contact with me Three and fifty pounds sweepin' n***as off they feet I'mma hit ya like vehicular manslaughter Underground, but we prefer to call it underwater Chorus x2