D-Boyz Got Love For Me (feat. E-40)

I eat they ass up like a Swanson with the Thompson

Fo-fever, leave a motherfucker cryin' 'fore he take his last breather

So, come along, take a trip to the dope track

Where the young **** be takin' your car and be peelin' your cap back

That's why it's A to the motherfuckin' K

Keeps a fat gat for the funk in the East Bay

Mainy off 'yac, I'm goin' brain dead inside

Talkin' to my homie "Scratchy", tellin' he wanna ride

On the **** that peeled his cap, so now I'm on the streets

With the dead motherfucker in the passenger seat

And it's fo' to the motherfuckin' five

G-a-gat that ass, leave 'em dead in the eyes

Red Rum on the late night, catch my case right at the crack hut

**** better back up while I fix my sack up

Pistol whip, shit, kick that ass quick

Quick to rip shit 'cause I'm a Coca-cola Classic

OG and D-Boyz got love for me

D-Boyz got love for me

I'ma chuck a dead body on your motherfuckin' lawn

Light ya' up like red dawn, ****, I be ready to funk, it's on

So call up the paramedics and tell 'em that you're done, ****

I roll strapped with no love upon my fuckin' trigger

I lets my hair platt and took his mail stack

Now, he's a stiff black 'cause I was at that

I'm dumpin' these **** in ditches, back to back

Hangin' they ass from the telephone poles

To leavin' 'em naked and bleedin' without no money

Gun me, ho **** wanna do that, do that

But I go out and get a new gat, new gat and let 'em have it

****, so D-Boyz got love for me

I got love for D-Boyz, 'cause D-Boyz got love for me

I got love for D-Boyz, 'cause D-Boyz got love for me

**** got outta line, I had to chop him

Reached into my drawers and pulled out my strap

Motherfucker got outta place, I had to chop him

Reached into my Fruit of the Looms and pulled out my strap

**** got outta place, you's got to pop him

Reach up in your drawers and pull out your strap

Rookie get outta line, you better ice him

Reach into your d-dun-d-duns and pull out your strap

Just call me Chef Boyar-D, boy, soda for bakin'

Cupcakes and cookies, rappies, I'm makin', huh

Tall cash, can't let he cut my grass

Don't make me have to come back and split your parents house in half

With my Sig-Sauer P226, Diana Ross' cousin, Nina

Mr. Meaner, body bleeder

Heartless, empty the cartridge roll

Smartless, get out of dodge, so cold

Hollow point, hot ones, dipped in garlic

I lives at the bar like an alcoholic

**** be thinkin' I be bluffin' when I be tell 'em I'm a good shot

But I'm also into some other things like ice picks and piano strings

Bitch, I'm tryin' to get **** rich

Open up shop, cotton candy and licorice, uh

Forty water, forty water

Me come to get ya' drop and leave with forty water

Shoot 'em up now

Forty water, forty water

Me come to get ya' drop and leave with forty water

Spiggidy one whippin' up on that ass for nine-four

Motherfuckin' rumble, bitch

Forty water, forty water

Me come to get ya' drop and leave with forty water

Shoot 'em up now

Forty water, forty water

Me come to get ya' drop and leave with forty water

They call me Spiggity one, Spiggity one

Me bust a cap up in your ass with big black gun

Yeah, man

Rolls down the block with my ****

Forty water, forty water

Me come to get ya' drop and leave with forty water

Spiggidy one, whippin' up on that ass

Yeah, man

Livin' in the city is a motherfuckin' task