Nigga Gots No Heart

A nigga gots no heart (a nigga a nigga) <repeat> Verse 1 I`m sick up in this game I`ll take no muthafuckin` shorts & slam dunk these riddles up in yo` ass like Jordan Menace II Society muthafuckin` killer just call me the East Bay Gangsta I`m yo` real ass nigga Quick to make decisions & I`m quick to get my blast on Do a 187 with this muthafuckin` mask on Rollin` up out the cut deeper than Atlantis tore his chest apart left his heart on the canvas Now I gots mo` mayo 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 A-K blast on that ass if in my way, nigga slangin` `Cola since the very very start much love for this game so a nigga gots no heart Ain`t no love bitch A nigga gots no heart <repeat> (gunshot) Verse 2 Release the trigga as I blast on a nigga nina put a cease on his Timex ticker And uhh playas he can`t give me no love `cause I`m stuck on the corna in the ghetto slangin` dub sacks and I duck when they fly by `cause Killa Cali` is the state for the drive-by caps peel from the gangstas in my hood ya better use that nina `cause that deuce-deuce ain`t no good and umm I`m taking up a hobby murdering muthafuckas & massacre robbery I`m twenty-two & 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 nigga 187 is a art `cause a nigga gots no heart Ain`t no love bitch A nigga gots no heart Ain`t no love bitch Me shootin` him up me shootin` him up if he no give my pay Ain`t no love bitch <repeat> Verse 3 A nigga gots no heart & I`ll be damned 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 & my `hood`s dubbin` pay back I sat & watched them shoot my nigga seen his face crack Uzis spray like Raid on these cockroaches a dropped bomb full of 187 soldiers Doin` dirt `cause we dirty when the trigga pull Seventeen up in that nigga left his body full of hollow tips so I know he won`t be comin` back I let my mail stack & let my hair platt But my sweet sweet Sunday had to turn tart his posse came & them niggas had no heart Me kill all man say kill all man say kill `em all man kill `em all with me Glock Glock Kill all man say kill all man say kill `em all man kill `em all with me Glock Glock Kill all man say kill all man say kill `em all man kill `em all with me Glock Glock Yeah mon blam! The 187 fact man comin` at yo` ass wit no love Blam! Fuck ya man Pussyclot man 187 thousand G