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[Intro: Fat Joe] Ollie ollie oxen free! Like one, two, three Red light, green light, one, two, three Yo I pop six boxes, play some scalezes Pitch the ball I'ma smack that shit Yeah, ohhhhhh, going.. going Yeah yeah what up son? Yo I got this twenty two nigga play me like.. Nah, I ain't got no bullets Yeah yeah yeah yeah Top two for five, three for five, we rollin!
[Fat Joe] Now I'm in too deep Only sixteen already hold a name in the street Makin the fifth scream, rockin older niggas to sleep Make a fiend strip naked cuz he owed for a week Now the Squad's getting recognized, supplyin connects with pies Pumpin pounds of weight, nigga like exercise Joe been over quarter five dope and homicide Long before Charlie got knocked, until Madonna died Young and not givin a fuck There ain't a nigga I ain't hit when I buck and left 'em shit outta luck I'ma gangsta like my daddy was, hittin number spots Sendin me to my room while he was puffin pot Still I use to peak from the door, couldn't believe what I saw Stacks of money on the bed and the floor It wasn't long til I did what he did I was an innocent kid and got exposed to the life that he lived I went from grams into O's, pounds to bricks On the strip pimpin hoes on some goldie shit I'ma gangsta by destiny, OG's selected me I earned my spot, my whole team elected me
[Chorus: children singing] Gangsta, gangsta I wanna be a gangsta My daddy was a gangsta Gangsta, gangsta I wanna be a gangsta My daddy was a gangsta
[Fat Joe] Yeah, unh, yo, unh Here goes this chick doing ten in the bing But 'less we rhyme time we see her do it again She started out fuckin dudes that resembled her father Mom knew shoulda schooled her but the bitch didn't bother You couldn't blame her cuz she got it from her She was a rider from jump, her pop's died in the hands of a chump Now she's mad at the world, no more daddy's little girl Now she's rockin bandanas, no more Shirley Temple girl Now she be runnin wit some scramblers that be down in Alabama Packin twin hammers, screamin "Life doesn't matter" It's a vicious cycle, her game is pretending to like you Thinkin you getting head but she's just duckin so they can snipe you Movin from state to state, runnin everything from guns to trains and pushing packs from eight to eight You know I can't say her name but she was a looker Pretty thing, such a shame how this life has took her Now she's raising hell in the cell, no more his are hollering You might suffer the same fate if you repeat the following.. Sell drugs, use drugs, get caught up in the mix End up locked up or dead in a casket, that's it
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