Wannabe’s, Wannabe’s
Gangsters, Hustlers, Killers, Riders, Rappers, Singers, Real G’s
Wannabe’s!
Wanna dress like, wanna talk like us
Wanna be like, wanna walk like us
Nigga used to be soft, now you wanna be tough
Used to be in your video, shaking like Ugh?!
You motherfuckers be doing too much
Wanna be hating now you wanna be us
I ought a really be clapping at ya’ll but instead I’m straight laughing at ya’ll
Then a nigga had the nerve to say fuck snoop dogg
Cuz got a perm and he just brought a coupe ya’ll
Tattooed L.B.C. on him and every little G in the streets want in
They talking about Cuz ain’t from the set
And when they catch him in the hood, he gon get checked
Young G you better be where you say you’re from
Where you from Cuz?? Wannabe’s!
Niggaz gon hit you up, what it do Crip?
Niggaz want everything, even your bitch!
Used to be jewelry, and just your whip
Nowadays everybody is in it for the chips
My Grandmamma living in the south
Understand me she even had to tell me what it’s about
Say the white kids on the block wanna get a flex
Say they love me like Elvis, ain’t that a bitch?
Wannabe’s, Wannabe’s
Gangsters, Hustlers, Killers, Riders, Rappers, Singers, Real G’s
Wannabe’s!
You Niggaz wannabe’s I was raised by these streets
Ex D-boy I did my thang in these streets
Went out of towns on so many licks
On Everything I love, wrapped so many bricks
Catch me in the coupe with my hat sitting low
In a rental car wit the mac and the snow (haha)
Or In a prizewinner wit the mac and the blow
A half a mil a trip and I put that on Crip
Inglewood homies and they so Piru
And So a nigga love every time I come through
The big homie told me Go on get em Nephew
Make it do what it do, these niggaz ain’t you
No wordplay, ad-libbed yo, yeaaaah!
Outta line, pull a half clip yo
Send em back to the lab, a lot of braggin’ going on
Try and sound like ya boy, a lotta bank going ***
Just one problem, that ain’t your life
Nigga just two problems, that ain’t your ice
Told ya’ll Niggaz and I showed ya’ll niggaz
Fuck around and make me expose ya’ll niggaz
Who me? I went rock for rock
Then I stacked it all up and went block to block
They got that Yayo money, lay low money
Cold blooded killer better pay yo money
You say you are, yet you not what you say you are
You don’t know who you are, you gon do it, I did it in crisis
Barry wanted to be white, Marvin was gay, Gladys chose a pimp
Nigga you fell in love with a tramp, Not the baddest bitch
Half of a gangster started this sucker’s dream
You spoke up when you should shut up
With them eleven dollar words coming out of your two dollar mouth
About a multimillion dollar Crip, that’ll smack the protein and the gingivitis out your lips
Little boy you don’t retrospect nothing, you better respect the 5 star guerilla crip
With bars and stars and more stripes than a zebra and a Siberian tiger
While you kiss that man who never fucked your mama, call him Pa!
This is the sickest shit I ever saw, what part of the game is that
You can’t make a tramp a champ, even if you put on a stamp
She still wouldn’t be worth a crying dime, or a blue nickel or a screaming quarter
When it comes to this game, lil nigga you totally out of order
I said, It don’t matter what you say or what you doing?
Whatever your G file may be? If it comes out that you’s a homosexual
That your snitching, you can ride the army, jack the navy, handcuff the marines
Your G File is a sponge
