Sam Bostic - Dusted 'n' Disgusted (Remix) lyrics

[Verse 1: E-40 (Richie Rich)] I'm really not all that sure 'bout when things is finna mature So let me find me a [?] with a grip And hit him hella quick with one a' them licks (What's the definition of a lick?) Packing butches tips (Hey put that on somethin') I put that on The Click, The Click Back to w-uh-work one of the homies just got dusted Time to do some dirt, I never trusted Them bustas shot him in the shirt, dead on arrival Now the town is funky, it's called survival What y'all wanna do? They got us skunked Well-uh, if-uh, we can just-uh, if it was a fifth we'll all be drunk I'm heated, fools cheated, played me false We had a meeting, thangs 'posed been squashed I noticed one [?] that the double dribble done set him up y'all She likes the Monie in the Middle, play tetherball Thick [a**] bootch, high yellow city-slicker Scarecrow creepin' Southern b**hes aka Posie Crapperfictious [Spice 1] See young tear up the chop and party on himself and funky bill Pullin' out bills, frontin on material thangs, that's when I get to k**ing thangs And settin' em up and havin' em catchin a couple of slugs Sl-uh sl-uh slugs, tryna get with the savage thug Pistol poppin' them fast, see playas been gettin' it twisted It's that butch that k**ed ya, took all your money peeled ya Seven k**as run in ya house with AK's while tryna puttin' on his jimmy Have the butch shoot off ya nutsack, before you can hit the broccoli See money-a-made that hustla, that hustla didn't make that money Let them butches jack him, it's either k**as macked him He's a busta, trickin' pranksta, y'all know the streets That's why you broken, naked, layin' dead in between some bloody sheets It's just a part of the game he didn't feel Butchers will k**, get a playa, for his last d-uh dollar bill You don't know that broad mayne that butch can't be trusted Dusted and di-sgu-uh-sgu-uh-sgusted [Chorus: E-40] (It's some cold-heartedness) Back to w-uh-work, one of the homies just got dusted Whacha'll wanna do, whacha'll wanna do (It's some cold-hearted business) Back to w-uh-work, one of the homies just got dusted Whacha'll wanna do, I never trusted them bustas (It's some cold-heartedness) Back to w-uh-work, one of the homies just got dusted I never trusted them bustas (It's some cold-hearted business) Back to w-uh-work, one of the homies just got dusted Dusted 'n' disgusted [Verse 2: E-40] Let's let of some two or threes on the other side of t-uh-town Draw the attention on the other s-uh-side of town And wait for the popo shift to change, ghetto shootin' range Revenge on the r-uh-rebound, war games Droughts, ouch, lost clientele but I will prevail By sellin' the broccoli dank instead of the crack c**aine Try stuff to steal narcotics When these funk MC's and butches be the reason why The law be findin' them empty shells, Celly Cell [Celly Cel] C-uh-Cel in the game full of faultiness I got that heat that make them think before they crossin' this Hard from the Valley, k**a Cali game is all I know Gotta sleep with a fo-fo, when I open, watchin' the front do' Cause they be plottin' and schemin', slidin' these broads up under your weinie Creepin' up in the dough with heaters while you dreamin' Choppers in your face, squeeze until they get the scrill Lead a body full of other sh** behind the wheel Drive in the ghetto while you scan'less up in the Bay From day to day gotta watch me lay up under there while you stay That's why I play for keeps, I play for me I play for G and roll deep stayin' s**a free Knee deep in the funk punk, I rock, skate, roll, bounce And break em down like an ounce Chop em in half, leave em six feet when they clown When you be found when you're stacking through my stomping grounds [Chorus] It's some cold - some cold It's some cold - some cold Some cold-hearted business [Verse 3: Mac Mall] The California lifestyle that I live Where the s**as is crooked and the haters wanna get Ya stuck, we bubble up as we totin' on a [?] Bay Area playa, tryna have it all major And a trick won't save ya, so I ain't playin Captain Save-Em though I mob up in ya like a pro and then I'm gone I'm like Sylvester Stallone, everyday is like a Cliffhanger Action packed, I let the mini-mac stank ya [Spice 1] Yo let them gold diggers tax for cash Clarity got smokin' on that hash Can't have my stash, better go and take yo' hugga stash Cause he's a busta, fingers with clusters Diamonds on hit When he slip up be the first to jack him fo' his grit Never was no love for the mark-man, the lo pink (the lo pink) You love them butchy butches, can't let them butchy butches [E-40] Gank that [a**], betta hide your cash and check her pa** Pump your brakes playa, slow your roll, don't go too fast Cause bulletproofs ain't doin no good no mo', no mo', no mo', no mo', man Fools comin up dead with they brains blew out on the f-uh floor, damn Hollow points to the face stash, flock through the vest, now r-uh-rest Pull a plug on a flatline on pu'ose, one hater less One hater less, from coast to coast, to the East to the West Fresh in the flesh, them butches played a game of d**h Look over your shoulder watch your back don't even trust it I'm tryna told ya end up dusted [Chorus] (It's some cold-hearted business) Back to w-uh-work, one of the homies just got dusted Dusted 'n' disgusted