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letra de das ok - spice 1

f/ rappin’ 4-tay

– send corrections to the typist

(chorus: spice 1)
they tried to pull my playa card
but das ok
they actin’ like they don’t know us
but das ok
i done emptied out a whole clip
but das ok
i reload it
i done popped another ectasy
but das ok
some n-gg-s love to hate
but das ok
i smoke the ounce of sticky green
das ok
i reload it

(rappin’ 4-tay)
i never knew you really comin’ to this
you on my hitlist, snug as a bug in the rug yo i lift this
snicthin’, b-tchin’ gave you everything i could
and just to think we grew up in the hood
it’s all bad, you the only one who knew where the dope was stashed
can’t wait to see you motherf-cker i’ma smoke your -ss
wanna get the grain but the head to fetch ya
payback is a mother motherf-cker i bet’cha
you paid for the lock down subquantant facilities
saw the homies who got snitched on
i know you feelin’ me

(spice 1)
chrome dubs, only showin’ love for thugs
finger f-ckin’ my fo’-five watchin’ sparks from slugs
i’m a ill motherf-cker, meanin’ i’m sick in the game
i got the thug disease, fetty chico the name
when you can play in the dirty bay
but you better know how to swim (swim)
and get your -ss ate the f-ck up by the shark with the brim

(spice 1)
like gang writin’ on the wall i’m x-ed the f-ck out
extra doubt, which n-gg-s is next to check out?
i got a fo’-five, a ar and a couple of grenades
twist ya -ss up quick like french braids
it’s the b-and-to-the-o-and-the-s-and-to-the-s
and-the-i-and-to-the-l-and-the-l-and-to-the-i
and-the-n-and-to-the-i, born to die
4-tay we ain’t playin’, let ’em know how we ride
startin’ with him, what you n-gg-s think it’s a joke?
i ain’t cheech and 4-tay ain’t chong
but you gettin’ smoked

(rappin’ 4-tay)
blaow! how you like me now i’m on a rampage
fully loaded mack 11, black 12 gauge
live fo’, bustin’ at a swift tempo
tried to told ya, leave your -ss and limbo
remember those crutches left at the phone n-gg-
now it’s on n-gg- (cause you a gone n-gg-!)

(rappin’ 4-tay)
leave you hollow or with flash or die from the gun blast
they can’t see me in the beany or black ski mask
body bags dumped in trash i’m like sideways
yellow tape on the scene to the slaughter on the highway
my way or no way at all, it’s like a pimp’s ball
thought i want it all, got a problem we can brawl
cops bigger, did he figure he ready to war
buck! one, two, three n-gg-s on the (floor)

(spice 1)
gang draw, echo three blocks and four
heard the motherf-ckin’ blast like it was right next door
boom! fall out n-gg- you though you was h-t
take a puff of the blunt say mobb life’s the sh-t
you see a n-gg- smash off in r-grey and a black six
it’s the infamous f-a-fetty chico from the bay b-tch

- spice 1

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