Текст песни City Streets - Spice 1
Yeah
Spice
muthafuckin'
One
Coolin'
in
Cali
Kickin'
that
gangsta
shit
You
get
with
it?
Hopped
in
my
Blazer,
mashed
off
and
left
a
boy
in
his
car,
then
Tagged
him
with
the
skull
and
bones,
cause
he
be
soften
Hollow
like
a
head
without
no
brains
inside
And
his
girl
was
so
damn
small,
you
had
to
strain
your
eyes
Got
to
the
corner,
hit
a
left,
seen
the
HPD
That's
when
I
knew
that
they
were
after
S-p-i-c-e
Turned
up
my
music
and
dashed,
goin
90,
I
mashed
Bullet
holes
all
in
my
window
from
a
12-gauge
blast
He
was
all
on
my
ass,
I
had
to
think
real
fast
Hooked
a
left,
all
of
a
sudden
heard
a
boom
and
a
crash
Tried
to
catch
the
cold,
sold
the
devil
his
soul
Had
his
car
and
his
face
wrapped
around
a
pole
With
my
vogues
still
smokin'
hit
580
to
Oakland
Still
upset
with
the
police
because
my
window
was
broken
But
my
beat
was
still
bumpin'
and
my
amp
was
still
pumpin'
And
my
nine
was
in
my
lap
if
any
funk
was
jumpin'
Got
the
20th
and
Nice
as
I
kicked
my
tune
Hooked
a
left
on
23rd
and
seen
my
homeboy
June
Jumped
straight
out
like
an
arrow,
had
more
gold
than
the
pharaoh
Had
my
Nikey
sweat
suit
on
and
it
was
read
like
a
sparrow
I
told
him
what
had
happened
and
he
already
knew
He
said,
"you
got
a
little
funky
with
a
fake-ass
crew
The
bass
went
boom
and
your
gun
went
bang
And
all
you
could
see
was
flames"
At
that
very
moment
Coke
and
Ray
started
laughin'
And
slapped
each
other's
hands
and
said,
"it's
all
about
blastin'"
In
the
city
streets
City
streets
Kickin'
it
at
the
park
shootin'
craps
with
some
homies
My
first
roll
was
a
7,
so
niggas
can't
get
on
me
So
since
my
point
is
4,
I
left
a
Little
Joe
I'm
kissin'
on
the
dice
and
I'm
pimpin'
'em
like
my
hoe
So
then
I
roll
again,
I'm
fuckin
with
Big
Ben
Now
I
ain't
fade
jack
because
I'm
knockin
with
that
ten
I
picked
up
the
dice,
shook
em
up
and
rolled
once
mo'
What
came
out
the
do'?
Whaddaya
know,
I
hit
that
4
Fuckin'
with
the
dank
I'm
hearin'
Marvin
Gaye's
oldies
Fadin'
another
20,
took
a
sip
of
my
40
There
go
my
homie
G-Nut
with
the
gin
and
the
juice
My
nigga's
always
fuckin'
with
that
187
proof
I
took
a
big-ass
gulp
and
feelin'
quite
tipsy
Knowin'
I'm
like
this
these
niggas
try
to
cheat
me
Huh,
they
can't
get
with
me,
I
put
'em
in
his
place
Then
G-Nut
threw
the
gin
and
busted
a
nigga
in
his
face
I
thought
it
was
quite
funny,
and
I
began
to
smirk
The
fat-ass
niggas
face
was
grounded
lyin'
in
the
dirt
So
I
picked
up
my
mail,
and
I'm
about
to
go
'Cause
I'm
about
that
mo'
money,
mo'
money,
mo'
Now
homie
on
his
face,
he
rolled
over
just
like
that
And
said,
"this
is
a
jack,
gimme
all
my
fuckin'
money
back"
I
act
like
I
was
scared,
gave
his
money
back
fast
And
when
he
tried
to
leave,
I
busted
a
cap
up
in
his
ass
These
niggas
out
the
kitchen
if
you
can't
take
the
heat
'Cause
muthafuckas
gank
ya,
shank
ya,
sank
ya
in
the
city
streets
The
city
streets
A
few
weeks
back
I
robbed
a
nigga
for
a
ki
Kickin'
it
on
the
block,
slingin'
d
to
o-p-e
Yo,
runnin'
from
the
five-o,
you
think
this
shit
is
funny
By
any
means
necessary
I
must
make
my
money
If
niggas
try
to
fade
me,
I
pull
out
my
nine
And
pop-pop-pop-pop
a
nigga
from
behind
In
this
world
of
madness
muthafuckas
die
Niggas
sling
and
bang,
and
bitches
always
lie
So
I
choose
to
be
murderous
and
chop
up
niggas'
bodies
And
set
like
an
example,
a
villain
like
John
Gotti
The
muthafuckin'
gangsta
S-p-i-c-e
They
ring
my
mobile
phone,
now
who
the
fuck
could
that
be?
Bitch,
I
said
don't
call
me,
I'm
busy
clockin'
g's
I
thought
it
was
the
fuzz,
but
some
niggas
told
me
"freeze!"
The
barrel
was
my
back,
it's
a
muthafuckin'
jack
I
knew
I
shoulda
packed,
I
ain't
goin'
out
like
that
These
niggas
caught
me
slippin',
and
fuck
a
yellow
sack
Niggas
must
be
trippin'
'cause
they
Daytons
touch
my
back
I
hopped
out
of
my
shit
and
told
him
go
ahead
And
when
he
tried
to
leave
I
busted
a
cap
up
in
his
head
With
blood
all
over
his
face
is
how
the
homie
fled
I
dragged
him
out
the
car
and
filled
his
corpse
full
of
lead
These
niggas
out
the
kitchen
if
you
can't
take
the
heat
'Cause
bitch,
I'm
a
gangsta,
shank
ya,
sank
ya
in
the
city
streets
The
city
streets
Aight,
Banks
Let's
pack
the
shit
up,
mayn
1 In My Neighborhood
2 187 Proof
3 East Bay Gangster (Reggae)
4 Money Gone
5 1-800-Spice
6 Peace to My Nine
7 Young Nigga
8 Welcome To The Ghetto
9 Fucked In the Game
10 Money or Murder
11 City Streets
12 1-900-S.P.I.C.E.
13 Break Yourself
14 187 Pure
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