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letra de nigga gots no heart (just ride street) - spice 1

[intro]
a n-gga gots no heart (a n-gga, a n-gga)
a n-gga gots no heart (a n-gga, a n-gga)

[verse 1]
i’m sick up in this game, i’ll take no motherf-ckin’ shorts, and
slam dunk these bullets up in yo’ ass like jordan
menace ii society, motherf-ckin’ k!ller
just call me the east bay gangsta, i’m your real-ass n-gga
quick to make decisions, and i’m quick to get my blast on
do a 187 with this motherf-ckin’ mask on
rollin’ up out the cut, deeper than atlantis
tore his chest apart, left his heart on the canvas
now i gots more mail than the rest of the pushers
rat-a-tat-tat-tat came my tec from the bushes
i blast with no heart, ’cause i’m heartless in nine-trey
ak blast on that ass, if in my way, n-gga
slangin’ ‘cola sincе the very, very start
much lovе for this game, so a n-gga gots no heart

[chorus]
ain’t no love, b-tch (a n-gga)
a n-gga gots no heart
ain’t no love, b-tch (a n-gga)
a n-gga gots no heart
-gunshot-
[verse 2]
release the trigger, as i blast on a n-gga
nina put a cease on his timex ticker, and the
prayers he can give, mean no love
’cause i’m stuck on the corner, in the ghetto slangin’ dub sacks
and i duck when they fly by
’cause k!lla-cali’ is the state for the drive-by
caps peeled from the gangsters in my hood
you better use that nina
’cause that deuce-deuce ain’t no good, and, uhm i’m takin’ up a hobby
murderin’ motherf-ckers, and massacre robbery
i’m twenty-two, and i’m still slangin’ dub sacks
i gives the fiend some love, but ain’t no love back
much love in this game, ain’t no love, n-gga
187 is a art, ’cause a n-gga gots no heart

[chorus]
(a n-gga, a n-gga)
ain’t no love, b-tch
a n-gga gots no heart
ain’t no love, b-tch (a n-gga, a n-gga)
a n-gga gots no heart
ain’t no love, b-tch
me shootin’ ’em up, me shootin’ ’em up
if he don’t give me my pay-ah (my pay-ah)
ain’t no love, b-tch
me shootin’ ’em up, me shootin’ ’em up
if he don’t give me my pay-ah (my pay-ah)
ain’t no love, b-tch
[verse 3]
a n-gga gots no heart
and i’ll be d-mned if i’m broke, old, pushin’ on a shoppin’ cart
they blast on a friend of me
another sad case of a mistaken identity
12 o’clock in my hood, it’s the big payback
i sat and watched them shoot my n-gga, seen his face crack
uzi’s spray like raid on these c-ckroaches
a dropped bomb, full of 187 soldiers
doin’ dirt, ’cause we dirty when the trigger pull
seventeen up in that n-gga, left his body full
of hollow tips, so i know he won’t be comin’ back
i let my mail stack, and let my hair platt
but my sweet, sweet son, they had to turn tart
his posse came, and them n-ggas had no heart

[outro]
ain’t no love, b-tch
a n-gga gots no heart
ain’t no love, b-tch
a n-gga gots no heart
ain’t no love, b-tch
a n-gga gots no heart
ain’t no love, b-tch
a n-gga gots no heart
ain’t no love, b-tch
a n-gga gots no heart
ain’t no love, b-tch
a n-gga gots—

- spice 1

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