Homies and Thuggs

[Verse 1: Scarface] Ghetto niggas remain violent while the killers remain silent Niggas strapped with 45's and ain't smiling And I'm driving to a place they're all warrin' The lake we build houses but its the hood we call home In the ghetto the only place a motherfucker will keep it real We focused on the dollar bill, still The outsiders tend to disrespect the place Where niggas do they struggling die with a straight face Surviving, under conditions demons died in You can run it but can't hide it so step aside Its the nigga that makes music for the streets Cause I love this motherfucker like pussy with no sheets Cause its deep Some niggas make it out the neighborhood and won't surface And let the money make them nervous, what's the purpose? A motherfucker sitting on fat Who done came up in the hood but he can't come back Fuck that, I remain in the street game frame On a mission to maintain me and take aim In position to let my opposition know my life Cause off in these streets I keep it real but what's right? Surviving, sitting on a key doing business on a beeper I'm sinking in this motherfucker deeper Fear the reaper that no man born or woman harm me Fuck being a nigga in your army; though I'm a killer Enter the ghetto so that you can see What I mean when I say I love this cause it loves me Let it be, stop looking at this motherfucker strange And talking 'bout a motherfucking change This is for my thug niggas [Chorus: Master P] This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas [Verse 2: Master P] 'Face, imagine us working at McDonald's To me and you, selling fucking, tapes to the Bahamas Gold slug, a car full of thug niggas Twenty inch wheels candy paint so we drug dealers No Limit soldiers to the fullest See I was raised on red beans the size of some bullets, huh We ghetto niggas can't be stopped Got me mixing up dope with little J down at Rap-A-Lot My phone tapped the feds on my tail Got me paying luxury taxes on everything I build True to the ghetto that's my life You see that house on the lake its for the kids and the wife You can test me if you wanna Cause I be dumping niggas off from New Orleans to California Rowdy like a hurricane (uuuuuugh) Independent, black owned got 'em hooked on this cocaine You used to see CEO’s in suits and ties But we young niggas in tennis shoes and diamonds Executive street millionaires Niggas gonna be bout it bout till we gray in the wheel chair (Chorus: Master P] This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas [Verse 3: 2Pac] What do you get from boosting? Niggas coming out to California, and represent them niggas from Houston And now 2Pac ll keep this shit popping And all my niggas across the Bay, know L.A., keep the shit hot I keep a Glock inside my pants , don't give Locaz a chance Put me inside a casket, you dirty bastards Until the day I die, you catch a nigga high off weed, the police can't Find me My shit will drop and I'll sell five million While all the niggas enter the game, they caught up in drug dealing Now how can I fall? how can I ball, how can I catch my enemies and murder 'em all? My words of flame, burn niggas inside their brain Niggas can't hang with me, and nuttin's changes, uh Scarface got me on this shit We lace heat, motherfuckers in they body and face, uh Growing thicker, liquor, maybe ya daddy a nigga Niggas don't wanna see me worldwide, mob figure M.O.B., Hennessy keep me g'd and Keyed niggas, don’t wanna see me, when I got weed, in my system Catch another victim, capture bodies Bring a shottie to the fucking party, yeah I party all night I do this shit cause its wrong but we born right And to these niggas in my zone, we do it long ways 'till these bitches understand nigga my song pays; cause I'm the man Now these are my homeboys, we outlaws till the day we die Keep this shit, rough and raw My 45, make sho', that I survived, to another day Just bust rhymes, and brothers get paid Now that's the end, of my freestyle, but it was left for dead Buy the shit, and you can hear it playing, West Side! [Chorus: Master P] This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas (uuuuugh) This one for the homies and the thug niggas