Lyrics 187 - C-Bo feat. WC
You
say
that
I'm
toughest,
you
say
that
I'm
the
one
No
matter
the
category,
can't
compare
me
to
none
The
boy
say
he
hooder
than
me,
no
he
lying
He
wanna
be
hooder
than
me,
then
nigga
keep
trying
You
know
where
I'm
from
and
I
don't
carry
a
rag
And
all
the
shit
that
I've
done
and
I
dont
care
to
brag
And
when
it
come
to
beef
I
take
it
by
the
slab
Make
the
pussy
retreat
and
all
I
throw
is
a
jab
I
represent
the
streets,
my
little
homies
in
the
ave'
Come
around
stunting,
and
they'll
take
what
you
have
Put
it
in
the
bag,
jury
in
the
cask
Once
you
lose
your
respect,
there
goes
your
ghetto
pass
Be
a
dead
man
walking,
all
you
gotta
do
is
try
em'
Turn
a
nigga
into
shark
meat,
I
bet
they'll
never
find
em'
Call
me
the
boogeyman,
I'm
always
behind
em'
Forty
or
the
four-five
or
tek-nine
em'
I
can
here
you
screaming
murder
(Murder
murder)
187
and
it's
murder
(murder)
(C-BO
and
WC
we
know)
Then
they
give
a
nigga
life
cause
it's
murder
(murder)
I
can
here
you
screaming
murder
(Murder
murder)
1-8-7
and
it's
murder
(murder)
(All
I
hear,
all
I
am,
all
I
know)
Then
they
give
a
nigga
life
cause
it's
murder
(murder)
I
can
here
you
screaming
murder
Niggas
be
yelling
they
all
in
Blue
when
the
police
come
around,
you
niggas
be
talkin'
Thats
why
I
stroll
slow
solo
Police
reports
is
a
no-no,
I
talk
with
the
fo-fo
Dubcudda,
lie
you
in
your
casket
Sock
the
lenses
out
your
designer
glasses
The
west
of
the
imperial,
gun
with
no
serial
O-G,
but
keep
it
H-double-O-D,
to
the
O-D
Niggas
can't
fuck
with
me,
but
fuck
with
me
And
I
literally
bury
you
bastards
Leave
you
chest
down,
with
your
head
backwards
I
stay
strapped,
so
get
it
understood
Before
this
rap
shit,
I
was
fucking
with
the
hood
Them
other
niggas
rappers,
dub
is
the
server
The
opposite
of
death,
loc
I
live
for
the
murder
You
know
the
G-code,
1-8-7
is
the
penal
Dub
and
C-BO
Ya,
I'm
rolling
through
the
hood
with
the
strap
on
me
When
I
see
this
nigga
Im'ma
kidnap
homie
Duct
tape
clap,
it's
a
grand
rap
homie
Then
toss
him
off
in
the
river,
just
like
that
homie
Born
killas,
nine
milli's
that
handle
mine
Play
with
me,
you
play
with
your
life
and
I
dont
gamble
mine
I'm
from
a
set,
where
we
wet
em'
just
for
their
shoe
strings
You
might
think
it's
fucked
up,
but
this
is
how
do
things
South
side
Sacramento
dont
stop
in
it
The
maniac
deuce
nine,
the
block
get
it
When
it
come
to
the
lick,
we
like
to
forty
things
And
i've
been
ali
baba
ever
since
the
hood
caughted
me
Bandannas
and
big
cannons
we
fucking
g's
Ak's
and
banana
clips
for
the
enemies
So
go
hard
or
nigga
just
go
the
fuck
home
If
you
ain't
putting
bodies
in
the
bag,
then
get
the
fuck
home
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