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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Big Syke
Big Syke
Vocals
Mopreme Shakur
Mopreme Shakur
Vocals
Rated R
Rated R
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Delmar Arnaud
Delmar Arnaud
Songwriter
TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR
TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Stretch
Stretch
Producer
Brian Gardner
Brian Gardner
Mastering Engineer
Norman Whitfield Jr.
Norman Whitfield Jr.
Engineer

Lyrics

(Macadoshis) It was a dope spot from y'all One on one strappin' That's the way it was when the four of us was strappin' I'm a f**kin' class from the Gs in the hood Puttin' worth, did some dirt Now a snitch never would Blowin' fat jag blunts with my nigga P Growin' up Time comin' back sippin Henessey We said we seniors are old And I felt like a god man bitch And i had my pickup '85 bitch And my family was known to be great See Syke Moore representin' no matter who sets it on Street power Why you niggas flip and you thug shit I be by my motherf**kin' grip Numba nos Cause we three million minds Remember that Damn its a shame But still I'm in the game I'm tryin to get street fame (Chorus) (Syke) Don't blame my mama Don't blame my daddy I know they wish they never had me In and out of jail by 12 Failing out of school Cause I was livin' by the street rules Hangin with hoes Droppin dawgs as a little loot I was gettin my respect but i was still rude Into the game and slang Into the cocaine With 'em double ups We slangin them whole things Hey I just told my mail man You hangin like a bail And even with no proof they gonna put me in jail Everbody says he's sold and I'm outta control Motherf**kers gossip and I still roll Bitches want my cash on my dash on my pac-vit They wouldn't know a motherf**ker if he didn't have shit So while I'm ballin and kickin up dust Get your score fresh Bitch made niggas know not to f**k with us Cause I'm livin on the edge I'm blastin lead Wanted by the feds they got to take me dead So f**k it try to work it in the inner city In the land of no pity I made it by the street fame (Chorus) (Rated R) Super storm made it by street fame I had to make some people feel the pain In this dirty game I know I'm on my way to hell Hey yo gather it up for all the niggas that have been smoked The hood that took me under A nigga gots the heart Don't get it twisted cause I'm mad with my homey's score I kill for my niggas, my niggas kill for me That's the love you get from your drug for you pootie It works, see? I'm a G Would a gang of niggas have to reach and appeal me Cause I smoked their homey Well don't feel proud Cause around here thats what makes it worse I smoke blunts all day to keep my mind off them They don't stop Through my casket drop-top let me ride All i want is Shatmo He's a god And it don't matter if a rapper plays Cause I cought the back of some minds F**k the fame (Chorus)... (Fade out)
Writer(s): Maurice S. Harding, Tyruss Gerald Himes, Diron Rivers, Randy Walker, Walter Burns Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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