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Spice 1 - Spiceberg Slim lyrics
* send corrections to the typist (Chorus: Spice 1) All black man, twenty-three inch rim Who's that gangsta? Spiceberg Slim Who's that trippin'? Hustla pimpin'? Gangsta limpin'? Spiceberg Slim (Spice 1) Keepin' you like Hefner, but still John like Gotti (Gotti) Dime pieces like platinum all over my body P-a-pop my collar, pull a bleezy up out my rim Who's that gangsta? Spiceberg Slim Zodiac sign, playboy bunny Money hungry, full of power and cream Real niggas ridin' fo' me and wit' me They wan' get me, I dump till it's empty Don't tempt me, I'm flash like Martin went off the Remy Like the "Sixth Sense" I talk to dead O.G.'s Walkin' around with the ball timers thug disease Ain't no cure for this (cure for this) And if it is I don't want it (want it) I'm poppin' pimp pills, still stabbin' for sayin' blunted Baby relax your mind let your conscience flee Rub your titties to the sound of S-P-I-C-E I'll be pervin', swervin', runnin' all up on the curb Who the tip of the spiceberg? Spiceberg Slim (Chorus: Spice 1) All black man, twenty-three inch rim Who's that gangsta? Spiceberg Slim Who's that trippin'? Hustla pimpin'? Gangsta limpin'? Spiceberg Slim (Spice 1) You ain't a thug, youse a phone, you been stressin' the bum You the monkey in this motherfuckin' game and I'm King Kong You think it's fuckin', I'm the shit, I'ma gangsta and youse a bitch I pack extra clips, you pack extra lipstick I'ma killer, youse a couch with generic I'm high powered You dropped the soap on purpose in jail up in the shower I'ma thug you get mugged, I'ma pound you one blood I'm fifty calibur nigga, you just a twenty-two slug I'm paddin' you, hardwood, I'm hummer you hondi I'ma soldier and you just a civilian scared to die On the fuel you take it, I was real you faked it I keep my heat in the drama while you be ass-hole naked I'm a big face hundred, you just a one dollar bill You stack half a G while I stack half a mill I'm the raw and uncut while you laced up with bakin' soda (soda) It's Spiceberg Slim nigga, roll if you're throwed over (Chorus: Spice 1) All black man, twenty-three inch rim Who's that gangsta? Spiceberg Slim Who's that trippin'? Hustla pimpin'? Gangsta limpin'? Spiceberg Slim (Spice 1) Nigga you ain't gon' squash grapes in a fruit fight While I smash mercormeek will shine in the moon light Motherfucker I'm like a chrome twenty-three, you just a little tin-tin You one shot in a glass and I'm a whole fifth of hen I'm a shark with a rim, you just a tadpole in a pond You emcee such and such, I'm Bossalini the Don nigga Recognize Spice 1 when you see 'em You don't own a strap, I break down and grease 'em I'm round as a gun bare, you square as a pool table And twice as green as the chronic I inhale (*coughing*) I'll put one in your dome while you're missin' multiple shots I'm presidential Lex, you just a motherfuckin' swatch Mickey Mouse watch ass nigga Well I'm a motherfuckin' pull-a-glock fast nigga Smash niggas I'm gangsta like Stacey Adams, you soft like Hush Puppy Spiceberg Slim motherfucker, shit can get ugly (Chorus: Spice 1) All black man, twenty-three inch rim Who's that gangsta? Spiceberg Slim Who's that trippin'? Hustla pimpin'? Gangsta limpin'? Spiceberg Slim All black man, twenty-three inch rim Who's that gangsta? Spiceberg Slim Who's that trippin'? Hustla pimpin'? Gangsta limpin'? Spiceberg Slim |
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