***** Gots No Heart A ****** gots no heart (a ****** a ******) Verse 1 I'm sick up in this game I'll take no mutha******' shorts & Slam dunk these riddles up in yo' ass like Jordan Menace II Society mutha******' killer Just call me the East Bay Gangsta I'm yo' real ass ****** Quick to make decisions & I'm Quick to get my blast on Do a 187 with this mutha******' 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, ****** Slangin' 'Cola since the very very start Much love for this game so a ****** gots no heart Ain't no love ****** A ****** gots no heart (gunshot) Verse 2 Release the trigga as I blast on a ****** 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 mutha******as & 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 ****** 187 is a art 'cause a ****** gots no heart Ain't no love ****** A ****** gots no heart Ain't no love ****** Me shootin' him up me shootin' him up If he no give my pay Ain't no love ****** Verse 3 A ****** gots no heart & I'll be damned if I'm broke old Pu******n' 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 ****** Seen his face crack Uzis spray like Raid on these ****roaches A dropped bomb full of 187 soldiers Doin' dirt 'cause we dirty when the trigga pull Seventeen up in that ****** 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 ******s 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! ****** ya man ******clot man 187 thousand G