B.G.


What Ya Wanna Do Lyrics

(Intro)
This ain't even much the half of it ya heard me?
(no indeed no indeed)
Part of it.. that guerilla warfare gon be the whole of it
(yes indeed yes indeed)
Check it out..

(Verse 1)
Baby Gangsta motherf**ker -- fake nigga head bussa
If I don't know ya don't trust ya
If I don't trust ya then f**k ya
Keep my finger on the trigga.. gotta think on the next nigga
Out to have thangs I hustle hard for 6 figures
Raised up thugged out, keep the f**kin gauge out
Hoe shit done played out ya whole posse laid out
Birds and money that's all that excite me
f**k bitches I'm bout money that's all that entice me
President lover, undercover, ain't another like me
You get a ki half price from Columbia f**kin with B
Believe it's just in me to be a real soldier
Gats I load, slip you don't value what's on ya shoulder
Now I done told ya -- the streets is real all the time
Gotta survive the game nigga I'ma die for mine
I ain't lyin.. I do what the f**k I gotta do
Shoot who I gotta shoot if ya outside my crew
Numbers 2-2-6, lotta buster playa hate it
Takin off like Delta cause Manny Fresh can't be faded
I'm a young nigga.. hard nigga.. street nigga
Tryna get on my feet I creep you sleep six feet deep
I'm dangerous.. I slang raw I don't cut it
If I profit or not, as long as ya loaded then f**k it
Yo head is a banana, squeal and get peeled
Feel what come out my grill it's a must I keep it real nigga

(Chorus)x2
What cha wan do nigga
How ya wan do it
When ya wan do it we could get straight to it
You could take it how ya wanna
Bring it how ya feel
Accept it in blood 'cause
Ya get it how ya live nigga

(Verse 2)
f**k all that assholin nigga lets beef
Remember I'm the one that said 'take it to the streets'
Twerk somthin, handle up nigga, shake somthin
Got a K with a drum -- and I'm ready to spray somthin
Lay it down.. make the wrong move.. checkmate
Think again.. you sendin peace messages, it's too late
Tryin to recuperate.. after we left ya in the dust
Big Boy can't f**k with us retaliation is a must
Baby Gangsta, grim reaper, death bringer
Assault rifle banger.. got a itchy trigger finger
I let em hang-a....what you niggaz say you gon do me,do it man
Underestimate in this war you gon lose it man
Got a AR... 15 I mean
D.O.A when I hit the scene nahmean?
It's a bust-back thang nigga grab yo shit
I come behind limo tint with the optimo lit
Bust open the 911, let me take my hit
Y'all done started, you can't quit
I'm rushin with a monster blitz
Lights out like the eclipse, rookies tryin to battle us
Cockin and be bout poppin nigga it's time to hanlde up

(Chorus)x2

(Verse 3)
All these.. jive niggaz wan rep on me
Knowin they ain't bout to step cross Martin Luther King
All these other initials besides U.P.T, and H.B. --
Don't mean nothin to the B.G
I'm ready to get down and dirty bout my place in this biz
Let a nigga take me down after all this time? Shiiiit
I'm a uptown shiner, bout takin what's mine-a
Used to spin bins in camerys and pathfinders
That's just to remind you, niggaz that tryin to
Fade lil doogie slip nigga I'll down you
Me and my rounds come through set trippin
Gettin it how we live and, takin respect ain't given
50 rounds out each assault rifle we deliverin
Scary motha f**kaz...on ya block in each ya shiverin
f**kin with the B.G., Cash Money goin broke
Puttin change on niggaz brains behind me

Chorus x3

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Songwriter(s): Christopher Noel Dorsey, Byron O. Thomas
Publisher(s): Money Mack Music, Chopper City Music Publishing, Ultra Empire Music (BMI)

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