Lyrics Time For A 187 - Master P
-Uhhh,
niggas
than
fucked
up
-Nigga,
its
time
to
roll
-Pass
me
them
nigga
chasers
-Time
to
do
a
187
-Its
time
for
a
murder
-If
you
a
g
nigga,
load
your
shit
up
Some
nigga
got
some
bad
ice
cream,
came
short
on
the
d-zough
Bout
to
hit
the
window
gats
out
the
window
And
goin
crazy,
niggas
can′t
phase
me
If
you
come
up
short,
niggas
bout
to
read
daisies
This
your
final
call,
i
mean
your
final
breath
And
when
i
hit
you
with
that
tech
i'm
bout
to
put
you
to
rest
I′m
crazy,
psycho
and
outie
Niggas
can't
fuck
with
me
the
set
is
fuckin
cloudy
Lay
your
ass
face
down
on
your
stomach
You
know
you
dead
for
fuckin
with
my
money
P
don't
take
no
shit
Everyday
all
day
i′m
breakin
bread
24/7
Tryin
to
get
paid
And
lose
these
hoes
in
the
dope
game
Cause
i
be
crazy,
psycho
call
me
the
murder
man
Hustla,
balla
put
you
in
the
funeral
parlor
911
in
your
pager
And
haul
you,
and
when
you
call
back
you
dead
bitch
You
bust
up
my
chevy
and
missed
now
who
you
playin′
with
Its
time
to
face
death
Last
smoke,
last
dash
you
last
jump
I'ma
let
you
live,
psyche
Chorus:
It′s
time
for
a
187
(drive
slow,
dim
the
lights)
I
think
i
see
the
enemy
(time
to
do
this)
A
187
(drive
slow)
I
think
i
see
the
enemy
(dim
the
lights)
A
187
(time
to
do
this)
I
think
i
see
the
enemy
(roll
down
the
window)
This
will
be
your
last
drink,
nigga
(roll
down
yo
window)
Just
did
a
who-ride,
meaning
a
homicide
Did
a
drive-by
fuck
it
i'm
from
the
southside
To
richmond,
california
niggas
don′t
give
a
fuck
But
if
you
come
shizzort,
you
in
that
black
truck
Get
you
nose
swollen,
i
mean
your
neck
broken
When
we
break
you
off
that
44,
face
down
cause
it's
danger
Niggas
from
the
south
keep
one
up
in
the
chamber
I
mean
we
g′s
Who
you
be,
what
set
you
with
Nigga
do
you
know
me
If
you
don't
you
dead
Ain't
no
love
for
cockroaches,
cause
roaches
get
sprayed
And
ain′t
no
fear
in
my
heart
cause
i′m
tru,
bullets
in
my
vein
See
my
tattoo,
tru
cross
my
stomach
Eyes
hella-red
been
up
all
night
countin
drug
money
But
ready
to
roll
with
my
homies
And
after
the
party,
once
again
its
on
g
Chorus
I'm
gone
off
that
doja,
i
think
i
see
dem′
rollers
That
ain't
gon′
stop
me
from
takin
your
head
off
your
shoulder
I'm
from
the
projects,
we
live
a
eye
for
eye
When
you
fuck
with
mine′s
you
gotta
die
And
if
your
name
get
scratched
off
the
wall
bitch
There
you
go,
just
took
a
fall
trick
When
that
no
limit
tank
start
hittin'
Nigga
them
gats
start
spittin,
good
riddance
You
better
run
like
"the
running
man"
But
if
you
ain't
schwarzenegger,
bitch
this
your
last
game
That
beam
at
your
forehead
I
don′t
give
a
fuck,
you
can′t
run
from
the
infrared
And
when
i
catch
you,
you
murdered
Lying
on
you
back,
stuck
like
a
turtle
Got
cho'
head
weaving
and
wobbling
Crying,
you
scared
to
die
you
slobbin
You
beggin
for
you
life
I′m
a
give
you
somethin
to
make
you
feel
alright
Chorus
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