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letra de city streets - spice 1

yeah
spice m-th-f-ckin one
coolin in cali
kickin that gangsta sh-t
you get with it?

[ verse 1 ]
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 d-mn 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 -ss, 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 b-mpin 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–ss crew
the b-ss went boom and your gun went bang
and all you could see was flames”
at that very moment c-ke and ray started laughin
and slapped each other’s hands and said, “it’s all about blastin”
in the city streets

city streets

[ verse 2 ]
kickin it at the park shootin cr-ps with some homies
my first roll was a 7, so n-gg-s 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 f-ckin 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
f-ckin 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 n-gg-‘s always f-ckin with that 187 proof
i took a big–ss gulp and feelin quite tipsy
knowin i’m like this these n-gg-s 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 n-gg- in his face
i thought it was quite funny, and i began to smirk
the fat–ss n-gg-s 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 f-ckin 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 -ss
these n-gg-s out the kitchen if you can’t take the heat
cause m-th-f-ckas gank ya, shank ya, sank ya in the city streets

the city streets

[ verse 3 ]
a few weeks back i robbed a n-gg- for a ki
kickin it on the block, slingin d to o-p-e
yo, runnin from the five-o, you think this sh-t is funny
by any means necessary i must make my money
if n-gg-s try to fade me, i pull out my nine
and pop-pop-pop-pop a n-gg- from behind
in this world of madness m-th-f-ckas die
n-gg-s sling and bang, and b-tches always lie
so i choose to be murderous and chop up n-gg-s’ bodies
and set like an example, a villain like john gotti
the m-th-f-ckin gangsta s-p-i-c-e
they ring my mobile phone, now who the f-ck could that be?
b-tch, i said don’t call me, i’m busy clockin g’s
i thought it was the fuzz, but some n-gg-s told me ‘freeze!’
the barrel was my back, it’s a m-th-f-ckin jack
i knew i shoulda packed, i ain’t goin out like that
these n-gg-s caught me slippin, and f-ck a yellow sack
n-gg-s must be trippin cause they daytons touch my back
i hopped out of my sh-t 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 n-gg-s out the kitchen if you can’t take the heat
cause b-tch, i’m a gangsta, shank ya, sank ya in the city streets

aight, banks
let’s pack the sh-t up, mayn

- spice 1

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