Spice 1 - n***a Gots No Heart lyrics

A n***a gots no heart (a n***a a n***a) [Repeat] Verse 1 I'm sick up in this game I'll take no muthaf**in' shorts & Slam dunk these riddles up in yo' a** like Jordan Menace II Society muthaf**in' k**er Just call me the East Bay Gangsta I'm yo' real a** n***a Quick to make decisions & I'm Quick to get my blast on Do a 187 with this muthaf**in' 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 a** if in my way, n***a Slangin' 'Cola since the very very start Much love for this game so a n***a gots no heart Ain't no love b**h A n***a gots no heart [Repeat] (gunshot) Verse 2 Release the trigga as I blast on a n***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 k**a 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 muthaf**as & ma**acre 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 n***a 187 is a art cause a n***a gots no heart Ain't no love b**h A n***a gots no heart Ain't no love b**h Me shootin' him up me shootin' him up If he no give my pay Ain't no love b**h [Repeat] Verse 3 A n***a gots no heart & I'll be damned if I'm broke old Pushin' 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 n***a Seen his face crack Uzis spray like Raid on these co*kroaches A dropped bomb full of 187 soldiers Doin' dirt cause we dirty when the trigga pull Seventeen up in that n***a 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 n***as had no heart Me k** all man say k** all man say k** 'em all man k** 'em all with me Glock Glock k** all man say k** all man say k** 'em all man k** 'em all with me Glock Glock k** all man say k** all man say k** 'em all man k** 'em all with me Glock Glock Yeah mon blam! The 187 fact man Comin' at yo' a** wit no love Blam! f** ya man p**yclot man 187 thousand G