30 Grand

Original

On the streets I'm a cold rebel, all treble, no bass Addicted to money, skrilla scratch, big face I pursue the chase, any crib to the face When I roll b-la blunts,

I roll 'em with eights She wanna fuck on them 26 plates dug in my chain And French kiss two ounce conquer catty the wood grain So unique, 36 zips less than a week

As a young cub I paced the streets Now I'm a grizzly that's in God way deep And can't turn back My family, my money, plus the game, picture that Age nine when I learned about crack from fo' sex '85 was a life in the time, never forget We was all broke and all the cats I knew so dope I followed the ropes, now I'm in it fo' sho'

One of my goons fresh home on parole, gun at the ten he tote This year is no -exception, focus on bread, bread -That's 30 grand

You ain't like me, motherfucker. You a punk.

I've been with made people, connected people. Who you been with?

-That's 30 grand -Chain snatching, jive-ass, Mardi Gras motherfuckers

I'm countin' hundred dollar bills on my table, five thousand stacks Digis and triple beam scales weighin' out the crack Look out the window, got a few bad bitches twerkin' the track Collect that paper, better not touch shit or get clapped Game vicious, gotta get it, no regrets, that's how I'm livin' Sellin' dope and pimpin' bitches on my toes, I'm never slippin' I fly a clique with automatic weapons to leave you slumped Cut your body up, then you get dumped, man, I don't fuck around with you chumps It's nutty in fees, stackin' G's, makin' power moves overseas

You think small, you'll never be big, we major league Time is up, the truth is comin', yeah, I see you runnin' from it Speakin' on the dirt that you did but never really done it Stay ahead, play your cards right, sharpen up your game Be about your money, don't be blinded by the fame, nigga We in the fast lane punchin' the gas Your little buckets might crash tryna hang with the Jags -That's 30 grand -You ain't like me, motherfucker.

You a punk.

I've been with made people, connected people. Who you been with?

-That's 30 grand -Chain snatching, jive-ass, Mardi Gras motherfuckers

It's West Coast to the day I Silver and black indeed the radar Swear to God, niggas can't see me, they need a radar Leave me to myself, I heard you famous for betrayal Faggot-ass nigga, probably bartender at the gay bar You ain't worth 25 to life, I ain't finna spray y'all We can do it like Oscar De La Hoya and Jesse

James Leija How flat will I lay ya?

Fry ya or filet ya You'll probably get scared and call the cops and the mayor Buddied up with 'em like the referees and the Lakers

But I ain't hatin' on you, Shaq, go on, get your paper Meanwhile I'ma turn white widow to vapor Ghost logger, hallucinogenic craver Your broad's jockin', I look forward to lay her Look forward to poke her, look forward to probe her Maximum thrust, bust nuts and it's all over Poisonous like a cobra, your mama -ain't told ya? -That's 30 grand

You ain't like me, motherfucker.

You a punk.

I've been with made people, connected people. Who you been with?

-That's 30 grand -Chain snatching, jive-ass, Mardi Gras motherfuckers

Check my records, check my stats MVP in the league checkin' my cash Please believe the West Coast leaves you left in the bag For 30 grand, who wouldn't get in your ass? I'm puttin' six in your ass T. O. just got four and a half Don't trip, YK and

Fifth gettin' the grip And the paper gettin' sent, that's Hustlers Nation shit

We take care of our own, break bread with our own Can't wait 'til you come home

White niggas out here walkin' blinded I'm creepin' up behind you, the niggas I fuck with is riders We out here tough and I'm not like the rest of you chumps When you locked up, you in PC with the rest of the punks You need a vest in the funk When they hit you, you slumped for the front Gotta front when he comes, you run Be a man, pay a nigga back 'Cause niggas gettin' hit for even discussin' touchin' my 30 racks, nigga, my 30 racks