Song lyrics downloaded from: https://www.albumsongandlyrics.com ------------------------------------------ The Game - Gutta boyz ------------------------------------------ (We gangsta daddy!) [Sean T] Yuh! Im sippin on that notiq the color of Hulk man And the blueberry smoke got a nigga twerkin You niggaz is perkin - so you doin it big? You roll deep but when I see you its just you and your kids I roll sick, my rims feel like helicopter propellers And my pockets run deep like a Mercer teller Haters trip when they see the whip dippin by The paint on it change like the I-95 Im just Clyde, without the Bonnie, I got the hollowpoint heat for you niggaz and the po for the mamis Sean Gotti, Im puttin an end to camraderie Im lettin off heat, til them eyes get watery Some gon ricochet, some gon hit, yall gon get em Fluids gon disperse out like refreshin club serum Im deadly as bite venom but Im far from a snake Ill hit you up on your birthday while you cuttin your cake [Chorus: The Game] We gangsters nigga; you see the cars, the whips The chains, the fuckin broads we with We gangsters nigga; well come through your hood a hundred deep and empty the whole clip We gangsters nigga; we got guns for the beef And my niggazll put you under the street We gangsters nigga; so you better watch what you say Fore I empty the whole glock in your face [Sean T] Streets is tough, but aint no hopscotch lines on the ground Just burner shells, and police siren sounds Niggaz know who I am in the town; it aint a circus But it might as well be, cause you know Ima clown Im a terrain boss, I know most niggaz envious dawg And if a nigga owe me change you better give me it dawg If you feelin like you wanna leap, make like a frog You niggaz lame, transparent like Wonder Womans plane Im a stunna in this game, a federal figure Blowin doj in the hummer, 50 K on my fingers Im like a NASCAR winner poppin Mo and Bill{?} D-Squad dont give a fuck about nobody else I pull a {?} to contain your whole, clique for hours The end result will probably be, pinewood and flowers So Ill advise you deduct your QPs and powder We gangsters and we jackin cowards (yup!) [Chorus] [Sean T] S.T. nigga D-Squad, G.G.D Dont get it twisted motherfucker yeah we do creep We ride out thug, shit we dont die We lay low like mechanics tryin to fix up rides A lot of cats say Im sick in the head, when I anger its on Poodles gon be up missin or dead I chop haters up, like an old-ass sample Or creep through your village, like Stallone in Rambo Im like piranhas on red meat, Im on you niggaz You afros? Then I guess I got to comb you niggaz So break bread, when you see me dawg hit the flo Im like a nigga off the X, unpredicta-ble Imitators always hollerin how gangsta they is But got about as much courage as the Lion in The Wiz Shit Im into pullin shanks on you fake Jake cats Me and my burner hold it down man we go way back [Chorus]