Letras:
W C In A Twist

a nine Nigga on my breath, money on my mind (yeah) You god damn right motherfucker it's on again Coolio what's the plan? [Coolio] It's a motherfuckin

we bustin slugs We sure to stay in touch and clean your mess up And if you from the West Coast, my nigga... w-w-w-w-WESTSIDE! [Nas] Game got at me about

of a judge and twist browns for my niggas The raw slow I get bricks and pounds for my niggas You the sound of a nigga Thats my round with a nigga Juvenile

Make less money than a damn school teacher Ignorant redneck Squeal, squeal, squeal I'm gettin' tired of dealing with the p-i-g-c-o-w-a-r-d Cro-Magnum,

m a spit it how I feel it, fuck a gimmick You can keep your catchy lines, I'm bout to write a rhyme If you got a backpack tryin' to act black Think you

the good though, Why would the bad guy, try and get smoked, Lie and get smoked, lie for a Nigga though, Try for a Nigga though, die for a Nigga though Why would a

and that's a fact And havin' a rider on your side (Lil' C-Style) [overlapping the last line of the chorus] I always got strach with hustle Like a Mack

[W.C.] I want a janky bitch, a janky bitch, A bitch straight down Penitentiary bound With the qualifications of a hoe like you C-sections tattoos stretch marks and bullet wounds A

the Lord hand me We pull guns, you niggas don't pull a damn thing The only thing you niggas pullin' is a hamstring Roll the dice, man, we kill time gambling W