Gangsta Luv, Pt. 2

It’s 1996 and I’m dippin with my G
I’m claimin Cartel till I die, sippin hennessey
Got the rolex on my neck and my wrist
Dis a hoe that’s all I know as the 100 spoke twist
G’s rollin tighter than a G-string hoes wanna playa hate
The conversation’s stupid 'cause forever I’ma celebrate
And aim with my homies finger clutched on a Tec.9
Yo bitch, you walk a thin line
Buggin 'cause I’m rockin videos in they eyes, buggin me Packin up your shit and leavin me while I’m in Italy
So let the dog hit you where the dog shoulda porched on In other words get the fuck on Tryna stack a mill ticket
But you always get mad when my G’s kick it But on the road it’s us against the world
For my G I would take a slug
'Cause it’s gangsta luv
It’s that gangsta love from the S.C.C.
Talkin 'bout these bitches and rollin with my G’s
It’s that gangsta love from the S.C.C
Can’t get no peace because these hoes keep sweatin me
I’ma be a G from the nighttime to the break of dawnin
'N the morning I clip the .9 mill when I’m yawnin
Performin days’n days but you be trippin on my status
Buggin me with family matters
I’m a gangster when I mention that’s the way I kick it Now that you addicted you tryna make me switch it I picture me and you holdin, blue 64
Baby locs in the back seat hittin dips hoe
(Bonnie &Clyde) no matter what the fuck is happenin
You holdin my back that’s even if it call for cappin
And scrappin baby had love for G’s
Another page from the eastside trilogy
But you be buggin, couldn’t deal with a gangsta’s lovin
It’s nuthin that’ll keep your lifestyle plush’n
Rushin from hood to hood 'cause you think I’m caught slip’n
But it’s gangsta luv still dipp’n
Blowin up my pager and you know you had the chance
But I never call you back I hope that ass understands
You see me dippin in a beamer 5−25
High sippin on a Semor
Right, now you wanna ride with a nigga
'cause a nigga’s livin large, hoe
Posted in the Central, I drop that ass like some cargo
Rhimeson on a path to luxuries so stop beepin me Hoe, your ass is history
As my game got deep like the Abyss
I had to make you drop the miss, prod
And now you miss, tha
Rollin Havikk Rhimeson and the Prode’je
Callin all the hoes that begin with the letter B Saw you couldn’t deal with this, you say I’m caught up in the game
My head had blown up from the fame, I’m the same
With this gangsta luv I provide ya