Lyrics Dusted & Disgusted - Spice 1 , Mac Mall , 2Pac

I'm really not all that sure about when things is finna mature
So lemme find me a nigga with a grip
And hit his ass quick with one of them licks
What's the definition of a lick?
Takin' a nigga's shit (ayy, put that on somethin')
I put that on The Click, The Click
Back to fuckin' work, one of the homies just got dusted
Time to do some dirt, uh, I never trusted them bustas
Shot him in the shirt, dead on arrival
Now the town is funkin', it's called survival
What y'all wanna do? They got us skunked
(Well if, uh, we can just, uh—)
If it was a fifth, we'll all be drunk
I'm heated, them niggas cheated, played me false
We had a meetin', shit 'posed to been squashed
I noticed one killer on the double dribble and set him up, y'all
She likes the Monie in the Middle, play tetherball
Thick-ass bitch, high yellow city-slicker
Scarecrow creepin' Southern bitches, a.k.a. Posie Pussyfictitious

Nigga been holdin' guts
But shit on hisself and a funky bill
Pullin' out bills, frontin' on material shit
That's when I get to killin' shit (killin' shit)
And settin' him up and havin him catchin' a couple of slugs
Slu–uh–slu–uh–slugs
Tryna fuck with savage thug
Pistol pop in they ass
See, niggas be gettin' this twisted
It's that bitch that killed ya
Took all your money, peeled ya
Seven niggas bust in the room with AKs
While a nigga be puttin' on his jimmy
All of a sudden they shoot up your nutsack
Before you can hit the broccoli
See money-a-made that nigga, that nigga didn't make that money
Left them niggas jacked up, and the bitch she macked him
He's a busta, punk ass nigga, don't know the streets
That's why that nigga naked layin' dead in between some bloody sheets
It's just a part of the game he didn't feel
Bitches will kill, fuck a nigga, out his last d-uh dollar bill
You don't know that ho, mayne, that bitch can't be trusted
Dusted and di-motherfuckin'-sgusted
(Some cold hearted shit)
Back to fuckin' work, one of the homies jus got dusted
What y'all wanna do; what ya'll wanna do?
(Cold hearted bitches)
Back to fuckin' work, one of the homies just got dusted
What y'all wanna do? I never trusted them bustas
(Some cold hearted shit)
Back to fuckin' work, one of the homies jus got dusted
I never trusted them bustas
(And it's them cold hearted nigga)
Back to fuckin' work, one of the homies just got dusted
Dusted and disgusted

Let's let off some 2O3s on the other side of t-uh-town
Draw the attention on the other s-uh-side of town (other side of town)
And wait for the po-po shift to change, ghetto shootin' range
Revenge on the r-uh-rebound, war games
Droughts, ouch, lost clientele but I will prevail
By sellin' the broccoli dank instead of the crack cocaine trumps
That steal narcotics
When it's funkin' season, bitches be the reason
Why the smoke be coming up out the chop, with my nigga 'Pac

Dear God, can you forgive me? My future's lookin' sick
I'm in my rag hittin' switches, I'm suspicious of these bitches
I keep on, calllin', but ain't nobody pickin' up
I think she's stallin', this evil bitch is tryin' to set me up
Came all alone—if it's on, then it's on
Bust my motherfuckin' chrome, on these jealous niggas' dome
It's a war zone (War zone) but I'm a man, so with gun in hand
I'm on my way to see this ho, you know the fuckin' plan
Can't understand, but the things ain't the same
You could die over these bitches, if you slippin' in the game
Niggas gangbang, but bitches gangbang too
Give up that good thang, nigga put that pistol to your brain
If you a smart figure, don't have no love in your heart, nigga
Any complications pull the trigger, dusted and disgusted
Bitches can't be trusted, you know the rules
They underhanded, she planned it, you fuckin' fool

(Richie Rich: These hoes out here tryin' to hold niggas hostage
So a nigga get his muthafuckin' balls involved)
(2Pac: Things happen when you turn these bitches upside down
What's gonna happen?)
(Richie Rich: Uhh,
Three and a half dollars or
Probably fo' will fall out a bitch pocket)
(Mac Mall: Yeah, mayne, them hoes hella stupid
They fuck with mo' MC's than Jack the Rapper)
(E-40: What you say, Mall?
Ay, fuck them sheisty ass bootches, nigga)

The California lifestyle that I live
Where the bitches is crooked and niggas just don't give
A flyin' fuck, so I stay stuck, smokin' on a Taylor
Bay Area player, tryna have shit major
And a bitch won't save ya
So I ain't playin' Captain Save-a-Ho
I mob up in ya like a Brougham and then I'm gone
I'm like Sylvester Stallone, every day is like a Cliffhanger
Action packed, I let the mini-mac sting ya

Them hoes jacked that ass
Nigga woulda got smokin' on that hash
Can't have my cash, better go and take your nigga stash
'Cause he's a busta, niggas with clusters, slippin' and shit
Better jack that nigga 'fore I jack his ass, bitch
Never was no love for the mark-ass, the lo pink (the lo pink)
He let them bootsee bitches gank

Can't let them bootsee bitches gank that ass
Better hide your cash and check her fast
Pump your brakes, nigga; slow your roll, don't go too fast
'Cause bulletproof ain't doin' no good no mo' no mo' no mo' no mo'
Now, niggas comin' up dead with they
Brains blew out on the fuckin' floor
Damn, hollow points to face, Teflon, through the vest
Now r-uh-rest
Pull a plug on a flatline, no puh-ulse, one nigga less
One nigga less, from coast to coast, to the East to the West
Fresh in the flesh, them bitches play the game of death
Look over your shoulder, watch your back, don't even trust it
I'm tryna told ya, end up dusted

(Some cold hearted shit)
Back to fuckin' work, one of the homies just got dusted
What y'all wanna do; what y'all wanna do?
(Cold hearted bitches)
Back to fuckin' work, one of the homies just got dusted
What y'all wanna do? I never trusted them bustas
(It's some cold hearted shit)
Back to fuckin' work, one of the homies just got dusted
I never trusted them bustas
(And it's them cold hearted nigga)
Back to fuckin' work, one of the homies just got dusted
Dusted and disgusted