Lyrics 4 tha Skrilla - Celly Cel

A slave to the hood, have no money in my pants
Rollin wit some heat to make a mutha fucka dance
Had a chance to bubble, had my hustle but I blew that
I walked up in the gun store and ran out wit a new gat
A double four, I don't want my million dolla mission
211, bitches kissin on my chrome wit skrillas in my vision
Can't move wit out the mail, wanna hustle
So I figga I go out there when they posted up an rush a nigga

But I can go anotha way, (notha way)
Hopefully payday (payday)
What if I slipped and say I dislocated
My hip and sue the fuck out of Safeway
That's my new get back
All kinds of things of that flavor
The racateerin, racateerin
Copy bootin-legger
Or however, whatever
Long as the weather's clever
Might pull a heist might become a snitch fo the vice
Ain't no tellin, ain't no tellin
That's what Harold told Melvin. Ten millaaaa
Make a nigga bleed fo the skrilla

Three drunk niggas wit they gauges loaded (Gauges loaded)
55 kicks in them agents ho (Agents ho)
But I don't wanna beef, cuz the game be fake (Game be fake!)
Strip a mutha fucka fo his cars and money (Fo his cars and money)
Tagged up a 600 SEL (Yeah)
A three way split, me, 40, an Cel (Yeah)
About my mail I was bound to have it (Bound to have it)
See you fuckin wit a mutha fuckin Savage (Biddy-iddy-itch!)