[KLC] It was a long, long time ago In the basement with no money but had talent to show But the shit wasn't right because the money was tight But a mill and some street skills got me feelin tonight, right x2
[Mr. Serv On] It all started in 92', just tight sounds there wasn't no beats by the pound Just a little light skinned nigga with light eyes and blacks I'm trippin, this nigga got a couple of g's worth of equipment and no muthafuckin strap This nigga gotta be somebody real Cause in south east and it cost ya dc Some nigga be tightin up his muthafuckin grill I'm seein shysty niggas run in and out Now I'm thinkin this must be a muthafuckin crack house This nigga say he like what I do, he see a little potential Now I'm like nigga what's up with you All we had between us was hundred bars and ruffles I know ya'll out there fuckin laughing bitch it was real All we had to do was hustle I told em nigga do the music these bad times can't hold us I did everything from credit cards to bad checks to bank tellers Then we started dressin like goodfellas Dressin in NBA teams uniforms everyday of the week This nigga still doing fire music and I'm pushin ounces of weed on the street But we still ridin dirty and this old lady Caddy nigga one head light Fuckin around the club, killing rumors, where niggas die every night But we ain't trippin, we ain't got shit to lose Cause if I kill a nigga fuck it, our shit gon sell I know we got on Serv-On we on the news
Yeah that's what we talkin bout. All you gotta do is catch one of your bitch ass niggas slippin. When I blast at that bitch that they talk with.
[KLC] Chorus x2
[Mr. Serv On] So now I got my tape dubbed, we gotta do something This nigga KL got two daughters and he workin on a muthafuckin son Til we dead we ain't got no nigga to put g's up Sleepy wanna lend a hand but the people fuckin with him He got his hands tied up Shit, all we got between us nigga is enough money to get a kicken chicken plate Me and these muthafucka's with child support are always in my face I still wanna call Boogie and Tarret, but them niggas got problems of they own Nigga they kill they homies time to leave they pistols on em I'm from 6th and Berome, I ain't off the way But niggas like Booty, Bozo, Cujo, QB, Mo, Vito, and T-Roy They treat my like I'm they home boy Now this nigga O-boy may he rest in peace Talkin bout some jack the rapper shit Fuck it, we doing bad plus this shit free Now we three deep in the course, with a pack in the spare tire I hope these Alabama police don't stop us cuz we hot like fire I think about all the niggas we done left behind But fuck it nigga, I gotta go for mine I don't know what I'm gonna do, I gotta go for mine
Nigga, MC Dart. That's like the tightest muthafucka ya'll never heard of nigga. Ya'll never heard of.
[KLC] Chorus x2
[Mr. Serv On] Now we at the Mariott Marquis with no passes Not for long, nigga I'm from New Orleans bitch we whoop asses I pussy ass label no name giving heard our demo Try to beat us with hoes and limos, fuck em I don't miss em Now we in the lobby watchin Death Row and Ruthless Records fightin Tearin shit up, and right in the middle like when I was young That nigga P ran up with C-Murder with pistols in hand Askin what's up nigga ya'll straight Shit I remember a little group, now they platinum I could keep a secret now I'm gon make my escape P said nigga let's eat at this breakfast place Nigga told me about No Limit and took my demo Gave us two hundreds dollars a peice and pay for the shit we ordered to eat Now we back home still struglin I got a pistol with two bullets One for me and one for the nigga that fuckin with me, I'm thuggin I done beat some niggas out for some paper KL got tax problems, don't trust me when we in the money caper Now P back home lookin for some niggas for some Down South Hustlers shit I'm lettin club rumors and I'm like dogg take me out this bitch He ask me if am I trippin on Chris, nigga fuck that bitch hit me bustin But I can't leave without KL Now we on the plane with me and the rest ain't hard to tell nigga We made it