Lyrics: Crazy Town. The Gift Of Game. Think Fast.

You Know that bitch baby
He's talking shit about our clique
but he don't Crazy
You see the writing on my dick
You know that trick, Tracy
yeah, she's making me sick
living that life
we used to do the same shit
shit gets drastic
some kids need help
some need there ass kicked
and some would never learn
to earn there own way
living of their daddy
had he not been rich
they'd be broker than a joke
and forced to switch
you gotta change your tune
or change your pitch
Because life ain't easy man
life's a bitch
shit is harder than hard
about as hard can get

keep on going were you're headed
you's alive to regret it
yes it hurts
to face the truth
and realize that the worlds
got your neck in a noose
if things ain't like they ought to be
you 've got to think fast
the aftermath
of your actions whiplash

I know your all tirted of these
wannabe thugs claiming the real
be running, grabbing the steel
thinking they're going to peel
my niggas cap
roaming the streets with black hats
chrome straps
sipping on brew
ready to react
of any nigga they see
that nigga could be me
ICE
got a muther fucking .357
to put eleven holes in their chest
thinking they could test
a real riderfrom the west

I roll flossin'
me and my girlfriend nina ross and
the ghettos' been good to me
but you've got to take precautions
Brothers get got what when they least
expect it or neglect it
You'll never catch the dirt
In the streets without protection
Nowadays
You got to pull shit
Haters on some bullshit
jumpin' out of cadillacs
And low lows with a full clip
If your tool spits
Shake the spot or get your duck on
Cause if you press your luck on
Stupied is what you're stuck on

That girl shelia got a daugter
She be clubbing every night
Shelia had her daughter young
Stll that just ain't right
Plus she rides the white horse
She used to ride my pony
If I hit it now, I'd break it
'Cause Sheila's just too bony
Smoking speed released the lions

I'm not lying
I'm not sober
I'm still trying
Hiding the truth
With substitutes a hundred proof
A fuck up. face it
One of L.A.'s wasted youth
Label me
As an enemy of
The lost star
My family's not too happy
With the trouble that I've caused
See we be breaking the law
Smoking on non-menthols
Thinking fast so I'm ready
For any all out brawls
And ya. Brothers get your hustle on
Ballers and get your shit tight
House parties get shot up
And turned up before midnight
Drive-bys and fistfights
Zig zag and crack pipes
There's a fifty fifty chance
That tonight will be your last night