187 He Wrote

(chorus)
Check muthafuckin 1 check 1-2
Shoot a muthafucka down what a nigga do
Check 1 check motherfuckin 1-2
Shoot a muthafucka down what a nigga do
Check muthafuckin 1 check 1-2
Shoot a muthafucka down what a nigga do

(spice 1)
Tschitty tschitty gang bang
Niggas wanna slang 'caine
But like i said before it's a ghetto thang
You wouldn't understand this
Cause at the tender age of 14 the gat was handed
I put in work to get the cash on
When a nigga stepped up close i got the blast on
And muthafuckas in my hood were down for that
Nigga what i packs, i packs it big phat
Muthafuckin ar-15
And fry that ass like sissaneen
Cause in the bay there are no red or no blue guys
Muthafuckas just drop life shoo flies
So when you come don't claim no blue or red
Cause these niggas will colour your ass dead
I gotta keep my tech-9 in the bushes
Made more mail than the rest of the pushers
I'm standin tough like wrangler
Niggas don't care if you're a crip or a blood
We are all get the gas chamber

(chorus)

(spice 1)
Break mine up became a slang word
Sellin that cooked up 'caine bird
Is a key to a muthafuckin g
Bustin caps in the mix back in 1983
So that's old school shit to me
I wanna live to see 23
But these niggas in the ghetto crave
To see a nigga layin dead in a fuckin grave
And i gots to come sick with it
I sold dope and crack and shit but didn't stick with it
Cause the boys in blue they got some new shit
A helicopter that you can't fuck with
And the funky-ass black on white
Ran blue lights with that engine somethin' tight
But 5-0 can't fuck with the 5.0
Cause i'm a old school nigga at the sat show
I whip shit and get the niggas straight stuck on
Pigs have a coke and a smile and get the fuck on
Cause i'm the same old nigga
Even though my pocket's phat my belly's bigger
I'm at the age 22
17 years old shit i probably gaffled you
But forget that shit because it's all good
And mr. rogers ain't got shit on my neighbourhood
Cause we was all young gangstas livin on a razor
Fucked with us and we sprayed you
But in '93 it ain't for you and me
Cause we're straight get the gas chamber

(chorus)

(spice 1)
Coughin......
On the real tho' partna
This is what a nigga's tryin to say
When you shoot the next muthafucka
You goin to jail regardless of what muthafuckin colour you got on
You know i'm sayin
You gonna get the gas chamber regardless
So when i do this shit for some cash anyway
Like my lil' partna bushwick say:
"if shit don't make dollars, it don't make sense"
187 thousand g

(e-40)
Ah fuck it
Ah y'all got your nigga e-40 in this motherfucker
I buzz i put a step in

(g-nut)
Kickin it in the fac house motherfucker

(e-40)
Ay, g-nut, spice, xtra-large

(g-nut)
Let em have it

(spice-1)
Went out the house i think it was a sunday
Nigga was runnin with drop top drop havin a fun-day
Kickin it with my niggas up on the block
Talkin shit drinkin "crooked eye"
I got the fat head rush from the chocolate thai
I'm feelin good i wanna kick it and hang out
But when the drive-by hit this is the main route
What the fuck is my problem nigga?
I got a glock seventeen better gobble them
So why should i trip, load the clip, put the joint to my lip
Get the motherfuckin forty take a real ass nigga hit
I'm sittin on my gat thinkin shit is cool
Some niggaz roll up in an old school
I ain't trippin, ay

(spice 1)
Yeah, whassup?
Rip, shout-out to my dead partners

(spice 1)
My nigga went crazy he's trapped in a cell
He chopped off his fingers and sent them back in the mail
If life is a bitch, i'll pimp it just like a hoe
I make all my money from slangin ounces of coke
I shot up a bitch cuz she was fiend
She's spreadin information tryin to run off with my ring
I'm livin' in fear, motherfuckers wanna jack when
A 187 nigga's best friend is a mack 10
Niggas be rollin up on me and loadin the clip and say i'm slippin
But i'm in a fucked up state of mind
And i'm packin a nine and i'm not trippin
Cause i'm strapped thinkin about my nigga took out in the game
R-i-p, plan b jessie was his name
So rest in peace, peace my nigga r-i-p

(chorus: spice 1)
R-i-p, r-i-p, rest in peace to dead niggas on the wall
R-i-p, rest in peace to dead niggas on the wall
R-i-p, rest in peace to dead niggas on the wall
Yeah whassup clean?
I ain't forgot about you homie
Johnny b whassup clay?
I ain't forgot about you either
Hope y'all tear this thang knahi'msayin?
Big dave, jr, six-o-mobb, yeah

(spice 1)
When i was young i had the lust to pull the trigger
So i know how it feels to shoot another nigga
Take one of mine i'll take ten of yours
You call up your posse i'll call up my boys
The funk, it was jumpin', but why should it jump?
Niggas with uzi's and hella niggas with pumps
Ready to spray do a nigga up proper
Did my boy in good chopped him up with the chopper
See some more from the north johnny b from the crew
Seen a nigga get blasted his bloody foot in his shoe
The bag the body the body the bag
From forties to funerals from chronic to zag's
I'm rollin up one for niggas that died
I go out to forty and hit the strip in my ride
And let down the top cause my top drop
Handle my glock incase i gotta pop

(chorus: spice 1)
R-i-p, rest in peace to dead niggas on the wall
R-i-p, rest in peace to dead niggas on the wall
R-i-p, rest in peace to dead niggas on the wall
Yeah fool whatta you know about my partners mark crowser
Y'all know nothin about erick ason
Y'all know nothin about big round sink knahi'msayin?
O.g.'s they got much love, marcus raine

(spice 1)
My nigga had bomb we called him big dave
Six slugs in the chest put my boy in the grave
I went to his house to get me a sack
His brother stood on the porch and told me the facts
Strange how it happened he went out for a night
Strange car drove up that's when the pistols went pop
Should i pull on the trigger and we bell on these niggas?
Should i roll up the endo hit throw up drunk offa liquor?
My memorials of my dead niggas on the wall
And when i die i know i'm dyin with a bullet y'all
But the nigga that take me out, he better have the clout
Because my niggas gonna chop your bloody body route
You know this nigga ain't afraid to die
Just write my name on the wall: gangsta s-p-i
C-e?r-i-p - rest in peace nigga

(chorus: spice 1)
R-i-p, rest in peace to dead niggas on the wall
R-i-p, rest in peace to dead niggas on the wall
R-i-p, rest in peace to dead niggas on the wall
R-i-p, rest in peace to dead niggas on the wall

Intro
"heh, heh, heh heh listen, studio gangsta, studio gangsta
Studio gangsta, haven't you ever heard of a killa"

Verse 1
Ring-a-ding-a-ling i'm caught off
In this thang with the mutha fuckin' sawed off
Niggas that sleep don't wake up
Cause i'll put the gauge to your nuts
Have ya caughin' up piss and blood
Mark ass niggas don't get no love
The evil ass nigga from the f-a-c
Bustin' out the hersh with the g-a-t
I went to my nigga on the okland block
He passed me the glock said shoot the cop
Shit went crazy when i spilt the pig
Piggy in a blanet thats what we did
Ran down the alley hotwired a broham
Flashbacks of a bloody cop suckin' the chrome
I'm lookin' up at me nigga and his name is g
G cocked the glock and looked back at me
Me say my name is spice 1 i never heard a ya
My name is spice 1 i never heard a ya
My name is spice 1 i never heard a ya
But a, 187 is a murdera, byd-a-bye bye

(i'm the fuckin' murdera, i'm the fuckin' murdera
Haven't you ever heard of a killa) ---rbx

Verse 2
You see i roll down the ra-a-roll down the ba-a-block
Hand on the ha-a-hand on the ga-a-glock
Seventa-a-ta-a-teen sha-a-sha-a-shots
Seventeen na-a-niggas pa-a-pa-a-popped
My name is spa-a-spa-a-spice wiggedy-wa-a-one
My uzi wa-a-wa-a-weigh a ta-a-ta-a-ton
I kicks the ra-a-ra-a-red ra-a-ra-a-rum
And leave your ba-a-ba-a-body na-a-na-a-numb
So keep a nigga ka-a-keep a nigga ca-a-car
Lookin' for the la-a-lookin' for the ba-a-bar
Sell me a sa-a-sell me another o
Scatter from the pa-a-po pa-a-pa-a-poe
Hurry up and break this nigga for his keyes
Because his glizock is at my ba-a-balls i'm fa-a-freeze
The nigga with the na-a-nigga with the na-a-nine
Flatt mutha fuckin' flatt mutha fuckin' nine

( ) x2

Niggas da-a-da-a-don't understa-a-stand
I'm a ma-a-ma-a-mad ma-a-ma-a-man
Killin' for the ka-a-killin' for the ka-a-keyes
Keyes ka-a-ka-a-keyes ja-a-ja-a-g's
Dump a nigga da-a-dump a nigga in a ditch
380 on that na-a-nigga ass ba-a-bitch
Smobbin' wit the sma-a-smobbin' wit the ma-a-mug
Livin' like a la-a-livin' like a tha-a-thug
Gattin' niggas ga-a-gattin' niggas stra-a-strong
Uzi sa-a-sa-a-sang a sa-a-sa-a-song
Da-a-da-a-da-a-death wa-a-wa-a-wish
A cappin' ya a ca-a-cappin' ya out the dish
Whan a na-a-na-a-nigga sla-a-sla-a-slip
This hollow ha-a-ha-a-hollow ta-a-ta-a-tip
There ain't no safety on this double limb
I got seventeen shots one for you and one for all a them
Hos pushin' up daisies niggas can't fade me
I told you i was crazy ho, but no
You wanna fuck wit the gat rata-tat-tat
Murder fac and it's like that nigga shatt-ed

( ) x2

(spice 1)
Chill man
Them niggas don't understand man
They don't understand about me
Bloaw, they got my glock man, me..
You wanna hear me trip you wanna hear me trigger man
You wanna hear that shit go bloaw?
Knowi'msayin we do it like that man
We got me glock and all that shit man
Me see me?you know what me do man?
You see me do like this:
Me killin man down to they finished
Blow em brains out, chill man, with a bye-bye
Killin man down to they finished
Blow em brains out, chill man
Come again now
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see me smokin em like a blunt
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see givin them what dem want
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see me smokin em like a blunt
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see givin them what dem want
Me killin man down to they finished
Blow em brains out, chill man
Bloaw, the nigga short dog in the house
We out smokin him, smokin the ganja man
We don't give a fuck about the cops man
Fuck the 5-0 man, piggy in a blanket man
Me see like this
We do some reggae shit man
We do a little bit like this
Me tellin em like this man, me say:
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see givin them what dem want
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see me smokin em like a blunt, come again now
Got to let them squabble let the reggae sunsplasha
Let them leg in the fields spliff up in his ass-a
Got a tech-millimeter see me bout to put in word
Found my nigga down the street me see him jockin for his bird
Jockin for his bird yo was like 1, 2, 3
The giddily giggy gangsta s-p-i-c-e, come again now
I-c-e is see me jockin for his bird, bloaw, bloaw
Me blow him down like a, bloaw, bloaw, with a bye-bye
Bloaw, me say the 187 fac is in the house man
Me trigger on the motherfuckin old english
And sailors and all that crazy shit man
Me got peas all in the motherfuckin house man, bloaw
My nigga ant banks man me, me n?me nigga got his trigger in his motherfuckin pocket
Like a fool mighty crazy like that man, me too man
Me say me got my glock and all that, bloaw
Me got my niggas in the studio
Them niggas crazy man, me say like g-nut man
The nigga got big knife man in the video man
He kickin shit the gangsta shit, bloaw
Me do it like this:
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see me smokin em like a blunt
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see givin them what dem want
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see me smokin em like a blunt
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see givin them what dem want
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see me smokin em like a blunt, bloaw
Let them niggas know that you're not playin with that shit man
Nine-tre 187000 g, 187 erupt motherfucker, bloaw
Killin man down to they finished
Blow em brains out, chill man
Me killin man down to they finished
Blow em brains out...
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see me smokin em like a blunt
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see givin them what dem want
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see me smokin em like a blunt
Smoke em like a blunt
Ya see givin them what dem want..

[ verse 1 ]
I'm tryin to keep my aces and my deuces all together
I'm thinkin of self-murder i know i won't live forever
This chronic got me noid i need to get a job
But instead i wanna sell dope hang on a rope and steady mobb
I'm wakin up in the morning thinkin of death as i break out in a cold sweat
I'm havin dreams of a whole family put to rest
Visions of a dead man body bags
And all the youngsters gettin their cap peeled over coloured rags
I write about murder and death cause thats all in the hood
Comin up strong while in crack yo g its all good
Describin a way of life that they don't understand g
So imma keep breakin it down until dey understand me
You see its real g and jealousy it roam my block
Thats why i'm never leavin the house without my plastic glock
Cause if they want it they'll take it and kill for it
And if its worth sumptin then blood gettin spilled for it
My mother thinks i'm goin crazy
And when i leave the house she just stares out the window
I think i'm being followed everytime i leave my home
Havin these fatal thoughts of gettin chrome to my dome

[ chorus ]
18--187 me say the murder the murder he wrote
18--187 me say the murder the murder he wrote--- blooooow

[ verse 2 ]
Did things up in the past that i regret at 22
And when i hit 23 i hope i'm livin well as you
Its good to be alive in 93 i guess that so
But if i gotta go i gotta go i gotta go
I guess i'm just a soldier with a song out of the streets black
Stressin of that chronic sack but i feel death is knockin at my bed
Sleep walkin with my pistol in the middle of the night
Wakin up inside my hooptie holdin my glock full of fright
Violent in this art thats only because its comin from a g to the heart
Got friends that have died and i mourn for their families
Bringin flowers to dey graves everytime i get a chance g
Nuthin like a old school homie from the hood
Which are right or wrong doin dirt doin good
And now i know inside i'll never see my boy again
I fie myself always pour brew out fo my friends

Chorus

[ verse 3 ]
I'm keepin all my pictures from my homies up in jail
If i told you what dey did it will problably turn your pale
I used to hang wit killers and i didn't even know
Wrestlin wit my homies as a youngster age 4
Now half of dem is dead and the rest is in the jailhouse
Writin to me monthly givin they homies sumtin to rap about
Tell me do my music and don't trip off what dey say
Thinkin to myself i might just be in there one day
Some stayed about the big house and still slangin yay
And now dey stayin under diction of feds everyday
Tryin to wash their money they wanna go on tour g
Gettin into the business learn about the industry
Try to help em out doin everythang i can
I still gotta worry bout the next jealous man
My homies gettin robbed so they rob somebody else
You can see it never stops let that story tell itself
I'm walkin wit my head down pervin in the rain
Thinkin deep askin myself am i insane
I think about that daily and i'm leavin on that note
And thats the definition of the 187 that he wrote

Chorus

* also appears on the menace ii society soundtrack

The trigga gots no heart (the trigga a trigga)
<repeat>

Verse 1
I'm sick up in this game
I'll take no secondary shorts &
Slam dunk these riddles up in yo' chest like jordan
Menace ii society mad man killer
Just call me the east bay gangsta
Neighborhood drug dealer
Quick to make decisions & i'm
Quick to get my blast on
Do a 187 with this bloody jason 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, gangsta
Slangin' 'cola since the very very start
Much love for this game so the trigga gots no heart

Ain't no love trick
The trigga gots no heart
<repeat>
(gunshot)

Verse 2
Release the trigga as i blast on a nigga
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
Maniac murderin' doin' 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 gangsta
187 is a art 'cause the trigga gots no heart

Ain't no love trick
The trigga gots no heart
Ain't no love trick

Me shootin' him up me shootin' him up
If he no give my pay
Ain't no love trick
<repeat>

Verse 3
The trigga 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 homey
Seen his face crack
Uzis spray like raid on these cockroaches
A dropped bomb full of 187 soldiers
Doin' dirt 'cause we dirty when the trigga pull
Seventeen in his body left the boy full
Of hollow tips so i know he won't be comin' back
I let my hair platt & let my mail stack
But my sweet sweet sunday had to turn tart
His posse came & they triggas 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
Is back in the house man for nine-trey
This here see kill a man wit me glock
Blow!! 187 thousand g