Time For A 187 Lyrics
| Song | Time For A 187 |
| Artist | Master P |
| Album | Ice Cream Man |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Master P | |
| -uhhh, niggas than fucked up | |
| -nigga, its time to roll | |
| -pass me them nigga chasers | |
| -time to do a 187 | |
| -its time for a murder | |
| -if you a g nigga, load your shit up | |
| Some nigga got some bad ice cream, came short on the d-zough | |
| Bout to hit the window gats out the window | |
| And goin crazy, niggas can't phase me | |
| If you come up short, niggas bout to read daisies | |
| This your final call, i mean your final breath | |
| And when i hit you with that tech i'm bout to put you to rest | |
| I'm crazy, psycho and outie | |
| Niggas can't fuck with me the set is fuckin cloudy | |
| Lay your ass face down on your stomach | |
| You know you dead for fuckin with my money | |
| P don't take no shit | |
| Everyday all day i'm breakin bread 24/7 | |
| Tryin to get paid | |
| And lose these hoes in the dope game | |
| Cause i be crazy, psycho call me the murder man | |
| Hustla, balla put you in the funeral parlor 911 in your pager | |
| And haul you, and when you call back you dead bitch | |
| You bust up my chevy and missed now who you playin' with | |
| Its time to face death | |
| Last smoke, last dash you last jump | |
| I'ma let you live, psyche | |
| Chorus: | |
| It's time for a 187 (drive slow, dim the lights) | |
| I think i see the enemy (time to do this) | |
| A 187 (drive slow) | |
| I think i see the enemy (dim the lights) | |
| A 187 (time to do this) | |
| I think i see the enemy (roll down the window) | |
| This will be your last drink, nigga (roll down yo window) | |
| Just did a who-ride, meaning a homicide | |
| Did a drive-by fuck it i'm from the southside | |
| To richmond, california niggas don't give a fuck | |
| But if you come shizzort, you in that black truck | |
| Get you nose swollen, i mean your neck broken | |
| When we break you off that 44, face down cause it's danger | |
| Niggas from the south keep one up in the chamber | |
| I mean we g's | |
| Who you be, what set you with | |
| Nigga do you know me | |
| If you don't you dead | |
| Ain't no love for cockroaches, cause roaches get sprayed | |
| And ain't no fear in my heart cause i'm tru, bullets in my vein | |
| See my tattoo, tru cross my stomach | |
| Eyes hella-red been up all night countin drug money | |
| But ready to roll with my homies | |
| And after the party, once again its on g | |
| Chorus | |
| I'm gone off that doja, i think i see dem' rollers | |
| That ain't gon' stop me from takin your head off your shoulder | |
| I'm from the projects, we live a eye for eye | |
| When you fuck with mine's you gotta die | |
| And if your name get scratched off the wall bitch | |
| There you go, just took a fall trick | |
| When that no limit tank start hittin' | |
| Nigga them gats start spittin, good riddance | |
| You better run like "the running man" | |
| But if you ain't schwarzenegger, bitch this your last game | |
| That beam at your forehead | |
| I don't give a fuck, you can't run from the infrared | |
| And when i catch you, you murdered | |
| Lying on you back, stuck like a turtle | |
| Got cho' head weaving and wobbling | |
| Crying, you scared to die you slobbin | |
| You beggin for you life | |
| I'm a give you somethin to make you feel alright | |
| Chorus |
| zuo ci : Master P | |
| uhhh, niggas than fucked up | |
| nigga, its time to roll | |
| pass me them nigga chasers | |
| time to do a 187 | |
| its time for a murder | |
| if you a g nigga, load your shit up | |
| Some nigga got some bad ice cream, came short on the dzough | |
| Bout to hit the window gats out the window | |
| And goin crazy, niggas can' t phase me | |
| If you come up short, niggas bout to read daisies | |
| This your final call, i mean your final breath | |
| And when i hit you with that tech i' m bout to put you to rest | |
| I' m crazy, psycho and outie | |
| Niggas can' t fuck with me the set is fuckin cloudy | |
| Lay your ass face down on your stomach | |
| You know you dead for fuckin with my money | |
| P don' t take no shit | |
| Everyday all day i' m breakin bread 24 7 | |
| Tryin to get paid | |
| And lose these hoes in the dope game | |
| Cause i be crazy, psycho call me the murder man | |
| Hustla, balla put you in the funeral parlor 911 in your pager | |
| And haul you, and when you call back you dead bitch | |
| You bust up my chevy and missed now who you playin' with | |
| Its time to face death | |
| Last smoke, last dash you last jump | |
| I' ma let you live, psyche | |
| Chorus: | |
| It' s time for a 187 drive slow, dim the lights | |
| I think i see the enemy time to do this | |
| A 187 drive slow | |
| I think i see the enemy dim the lights | |
| A 187 time to do this | |
| I think i see the enemy roll down the window | |
| This will be your last drink, nigga roll down yo window | |
| Just did a whoride, meaning a homicide | |
| Did a driveby fuck it i' m from the southside | |
| To richmond, california niggas don' t give a fuck | |
| But if you come shizzort, you in that black truck | |
| Get you nose swollen, i mean your neck broken | |
| When we break you off that 44, face down cause it' s danger | |
| Niggas from the south keep one up in the chamber | |
| I mean we g' s | |
| Who you be, what set you with | |
| Nigga do you know me | |
| If you don' t you dead | |
| Ain' t no love for cockroaches, cause roaches get sprayed | |
| And ain' t no fear in my heart cause i' m tru, bullets in my vein | |
| See my tattoo, tru cross my stomach | |
| Eyes hellared been up all night countin drug money | |
| But ready to roll with my homies | |
| And after the party, once again its on g | |
| Chorus | |
| I' m gone off that doja, i think i see dem' rollers | |
| That ain' t gon' stop me from takin your head off your shoulder | |
| I' m from the projects, we live a eye for eye | |
| When you fuck with mine' s you gotta die | |
| And if your name get scratched off the wall bitch | |
| There you go, just took a fall trick | |
| When that no limit tank start hittin' | |
| Nigga them gats start spittin, good riddance | |
| You better run like " the running man" | |
| But if you ain' t schwarzenegger, bitch this your last game | |
| That beam at your forehead | |
| I don' t give a fuck, you can' t run from the infrared | |
| And when i catch you, you murdered | |
| Lying on you back, stuck like a turtle | |
| Got cho' head weaving and wobbling | |
| Crying, you scared to die you slobbin | |
| You beggin for you life | |
| I' m a give you somethin to make you feel alright | |
| Chorus |
| zuò cí : Master P | |
| uhhh, niggas than fucked up | |
| nigga, its time to roll | |
| pass me them nigga chasers | |
| time to do a 187 | |
| its time for a murder | |
| if you a g nigga, load your shit up | |
| Some nigga got some bad ice cream, came short on the dzough | |
| Bout to hit the window gats out the window | |
| And goin crazy, niggas can' t phase me | |
| If you come up short, niggas bout to read daisies | |
| This your final call, i mean your final breath | |
| And when i hit you with that tech i' m bout to put you to rest | |
| I' m crazy, psycho and outie | |
| Niggas can' t fuck with me the set is fuckin cloudy | |
| Lay your ass face down on your stomach | |
| You know you dead for fuckin with my money | |
| P don' t take no shit | |
| Everyday all day i' m breakin bread 24 7 | |
| Tryin to get paid | |
| And lose these hoes in the dope game | |
| Cause i be crazy, psycho call me the murder man | |
| Hustla, balla put you in the funeral parlor 911 in your pager | |
| And haul you, and when you call back you dead bitch | |
| You bust up my chevy and missed now who you playin' with | |
| Its time to face death | |
| Last smoke, last dash you last jump | |
| I' ma let you live, psyche | |
| Chorus: | |
| It' s time for a 187 drive slow, dim the lights | |
| I think i see the enemy time to do this | |
| A 187 drive slow | |
| I think i see the enemy dim the lights | |
| A 187 time to do this | |
| I think i see the enemy roll down the window | |
| This will be your last drink, nigga roll down yo window | |
| Just did a whoride, meaning a homicide | |
| Did a driveby fuck it i' m from the southside | |
| To richmond, california niggas don' t give a fuck | |
| But if you come shizzort, you in that black truck | |
| Get you nose swollen, i mean your neck broken | |
| When we break you off that 44, face down cause it' s danger | |
| Niggas from the south keep one up in the chamber | |
| I mean we g' s | |
| Who you be, what set you with | |
| Nigga do you know me | |
| If you don' t you dead | |
| Ain' t no love for cockroaches, cause roaches get sprayed | |
| And ain' t no fear in my heart cause i' m tru, bullets in my vein | |
| See my tattoo, tru cross my stomach | |
| Eyes hellared been up all night countin drug money | |
| But ready to roll with my homies | |
| And after the party, once again its on g | |
| Chorus | |
| I' m gone off that doja, i think i see dem' rollers | |
| That ain' t gon' stop me from takin your head off your shoulder | |
| I' m from the projects, we live a eye for eye | |
| When you fuck with mine' s you gotta die | |
| And if your name get scratched off the wall bitch | |
| There you go, just took a fall trick | |
| When that no limit tank start hittin' | |
| Nigga them gats start spittin, good riddance | |
| You better run like " the running man" | |
| But if you ain' t schwarzenegger, bitch this your last game | |
| That beam at your forehead | |
| I don' t give a fuck, you can' t run from the infrared | |
| And when i catch you, you murdered | |
| Lying on you back, stuck like a turtle | |
| Got cho' head weaving and wobbling | |
| Crying, you scared to die you slobbin | |
| You beggin for you life | |
| I' m a give you somethin to make you feel alright | |
| Chorus |
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