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    You want lessons?
    It's to get with it, we out nigga
    Come on!

    I came into the party with my fly wu-wear shit on
    Two hundred in, my teeth flex, gotta throw my hit on
    Movin through the crowd with my shines hangin out
    Hit the bar, for a henney straight, no chaser
    Guzzle it down, honies crowdin around the killa bee
    Buy you a drink, you kidding? love, you got to be
    Since you on my dick, won't you buy me a drink?
    Chewin my ear off, tellin me that she met me in the rink
    I don't get tricky, got too much g
    Got a degree in p.I.m.p-alogy, acknowledge me
    Not a playa, teach these niggas how to be, I'm [?]wallabeeneny[?]
    Thugs throw it up, everytime they see me
    I hollow back, "where the bats at?"
    Baseball fitted hat, 7-1-8ths, new york yanks'
    She was miss elliot trace, from her shoes to her face
    With a body just like a ferrari shape
    She asks me, "how you get that cut on your face"?
    That's when the dj shouted out, "shyheim's in the place"
    I was high off the notion and case
    It must have been her birthday cuz she was holdin mad cake
    Her man holdin no weight
    He low-budget, she told me we was fluckin
    We with two of her friends and three of her cousins
    We in the corner whinin, my whole team's shinin
    It's time to go when these fake rappers start rhymin
    For real son

    You know the club scene, 7-40, I beam
    You know the club scene, big icy links and minks
    You know the club scene, fuck around and get shot
    You know the club scene, niggas spend all they got
    You know the club scene, shorty, she lookin hot
    You know the club scene, niggas be on bra'
    You know the club scene, you better tuck your watch
    You know the club scene, we flossin in the parkin lot

    There's a party goin on, down the blizz-ock
    In this little hot box, but you might get shot
    Cuz there's a lot of knuckleheadz, who'll be playin this club
    A hole in the wall, I got my gun in, ain't searchin at all
    I watch you hand-to-hand niggas, that be tryin to ball
    With your little ghetto-fame, tech to snatch your chain
    They used to call him killa, now got-murdered his name
    I smack earth, wind & fire out lames
    Take money, thuggin ain't a thing
    I got my drink in my right hand, left hand in my pants
    I don't dance, just be loungin in my b-boy stance
    Respect my gangsta, move like an army at war
    Spit some willy in the air, and we slid out the door
    About a quarter to 4:00, jumped in the 4x4, smooth like velour
    Say no more, every party I go to, I bring a bird home
    Call me cabosa indiana jones

    I had this show o.t., at this venue called ritz
    I was rockin the mic, when I noticed this bitch
    She was lickin her lips and her rubbin her tits
    I can tell that she stripped, I had to politic
    But she was with this achin bitch, alienation bitch
    Throwin peanuts in my jif, makin me sick
    Etcera, etcera, I'm liable to get rid of her
    I don't give a fuck
    Took her in the bathroom, picked her up in the tub
    I'm like a drug, I be stalkin the club
    Ladies beware, eighteen and above, what?
    I'm a heart-breaker, the mind-raper
    That don't spend no paper and don't like bitches that wear makeup

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