Trigga Gots no Heart (Explicit)-Spice1

The trigga gots no heart (the trigga a trigga) The trigga gots no heart (the trigga a trigga) I'm sick up in this game I'll take no secondary shorts and 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 and 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 a** 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 Ain't no love trick The trigga gots no heart (gunshot) Release the trigga as I blast on a ni**a Nina put a cease on his Timex ticker And uh 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 um I'm taking up a hobby Maniac murderin' doin' massacre robbery I'm twenty-two and 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 Me shootin' him up me shootin' him up If he no give my pay Ain't no love trick The trigga gots no heart And 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 and my 'hood's dubbin' pay back I sat and 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 and let my mail stack But my sweet sweet Sunday had to turn tart His posse came and 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 with me Glock BLOW! 187 thousand G