im feelin kinda tipsy wit my glass half empty im smellin like a pound of good tree
im mr cranberry with the belvedeer stir it with my pinky ring im tryna make a ice cone drink..
Coolin on the corner with the cellular phone, you could tell that the eastbay was his home, more mail then the rest of the pushers, cuz he gotta tech-nine in the bushes....
coalition mutha fuckas, we be doggin these hoes/ i heard the rumors, i don't be goin raw in the hoes/ i go raw on these flows/ hyphy nigga, wit raw in my nose/ wit the cooked up raw on my clothes- the boy boy mess
"playboy.. what the fuck is a proof without the trauma plate? nigga what the fuck you got a gun for if u gon hesitate?" e-40 on pac's we aint hard to find