[Chorus: x2] Ride with the thumper, pimp I ain't scared You call it paranoid I call it prepared I never bust in the air! I never bust in the air!
[Verse 1:] Ooh! A noun is a person, place or thing my mackin' (my mackin') But people be calling me verse cause I'm about that action I'm standing outside of myself looking at me (looking at'chu?) Off this boat diddly bow and the eighth of broccoli We working real limited space mane Don't fuck around with fakes mane Them fragile muthafuckas a get my period ass erased mane Get rid of the dead weight mane Before I get too late mane I live in the Bay where they mad-ed the famous word 'playa hate' mane I was forced to be a monsta, I turn into sumthin' [?] long as I can see it coming I take it there I keep a spare hundred round drumming Give you a pass if you with'cha kids or ya woman Depending on where I'm at what time of the day and how I'm feeling But non Rk outside of the club or in the fuckin' building I'm having my bread getting my means having my fuckin' cash Remove ya head I put it on skinnies I'll beat that ass
[Verse 2:] Watch ya drinks when ya purp (in ya purp) Got a Oldsmobile high alert, when ya see a chick flirt Never know cause a bitch could have a wire in her skirt Never know cause a bitch can have a camera in her purse Never call nobody a snitch until you see some paper work It's a new game, tell on Hilmar he goin tell first This is true mane, the rule done changed they need to be rehearsed Nowadays these youngstas out here shoot you for a verse Being scarred since they birth, no Christmas jingle bells Parents ain't home so they raising they self's I'm into worry I'm out the way I ain't out here stunnin' the clumsy I don't want none of these hungry niggaz to think I got money Stay polished in them shop Keeping it one hunnit is my muthafuckin job And anybody would want it can get the whole catalog The cartridge, the clip The po-po and they dogs I might be dumb but I ain't stupid Bia, biatch
[Verse 3:] I was remember when I was little A lil young mustache when I got my first pistol From my best friend potna's dad he was a loosey machine Isreal In a Safeway paper bag For the playa pricer nickel, cause he was doing kinda bag He used to fuck around with the triple, once known to floss Bragging about what he had and everything he lost Anybody disrespect him I'm a chop they head off On the streets he a fiend but in the pen he a boss I'm rubber up on game not the rapper that's my past Watching Og shoot the shit and pow-wow A sponge it up like Sham-wow How do ya like me now? Wherever it is in this rapping got a silly ass style I might be stronger than my ground (growling) Then my Chevy on the prow (growls) I been in the dark and loud as I wanna be, smoking on some broccoli All the bitches jockin' me, police always bother me... Biatch!