Think We Playin - Bad Boy, RYU, Kree

You recognize this yet, you better find respect

I’ll let it slide, I guess, I’ll set aside the tech

I’m dead up if they let us in this place, I’m mashin'

When you rappers gonna learn to stop playin’in traffic

Suck my dick

Better yet, swallow a cactus

Sip Jack with a big fat bottle of aspirin

Matter of fact

Bring a six-pack and a magmun

For the cops, cause I’m click-clack

Comin', I’m blastin'

Bottom line, killer, I’m hot

Who can’t be touched

Unlike Missy, we hot cause we cook that dutch

And them hammers don’t make a dudes ooze like pus

And the streets talkin', got some of drugs and such

Bought a ounce of kilo and how they stack they books

The game is like goin’through laggin', cause you got no luck

Fight the fuss

Can’t go bite the dust

Cause there’s just some things that you cannot touch

Bitch

Chorus: Scoop DeVille

These muh’fuckers think we playin'

I got

My mack, my gun go clack when my A.K.

Start sprayin'

Get the fuck back

Killer, I’m a boss, wanna talk back, stay strap

Bitch, we ain’t playin'

I’m sayin'

If you wanna get ya ass blown up and laid down

It’s nathin'

So we can get it in here

I got my vest on my chest, don’t be testing the fear

Bitch

Tonic shots, and I’m outside your favorite rapper’s

Mansion

With a handgun, holdin’your wife for ransom

We never talk, we walk, look at ya dancin'

Your fad is in and out of fashion, quicker than Hanson

Fasten your seatbelts for the ride of the life

I talk shit, I might slide in your wife, for the right price

I might of ride with a .45, this calibre chrome

The style is beyond, with house and home

If I, shoot, you going to tell the gunshots

So I Bring the lead up out of the shell

Take the wind up Out of your cell

Shot it from the mack 10

Spin up, out of the barrel

They say the odds are against me, so I ain’t leaving until

My odd flow make them minds even

Look, it’s K-R, two E’s in my name

Been out of Cali for four years, I’m back through a main

Repeat Chorus

It’s spit one, part two

That’s what’s up Some homeboys grab ya straps

And ride with us Put ya nickels, dimes and dubs up There’s two twisted in the middle

With the thumb tucked

Bow down, or run up Catch me in a big body Benz

Holla at my .45

Suckers better duck

It’s no trickin'

It’s big pimpin', ask the homie Snoop, he know

Be Gettin’It like Short

Here are them two Latinos

At the player’s ball, two hawks

Hear us real dawgs

Gettin’it on Like G. Dub

Let’s get high, roll the weed up

(???) ride the P.C.

up Died down in the cut

Fresh from the cannibus cup

Either she’s rolling with me Or I’m rolling with her

At this point, pass the joint

Anything can occur

My mic’s bangin’in the car like my rims on the curb