SPICE 1


Peace To My Nine Lyrics

It's like root beer one of a kind
Spice 1 is up in the house with the niggata niggata nine
And the clip and the trigga
Muthaf**kas try ta play me yet they callin' me they nigga

Should I get the AK and jump like Jack
Or should I just reanimate the muthaf**kin' Fac?
My name is Spice 1, but I be comin' like I'm two
Or maybe three or four or just a muthaf**kin' crew

Late night see a drive by drop Impala
The niggaz took cover and the bitches all holla
If you think it's sick then nigga just throw up
I'm quick ta bust a cap and leave your f**kin' dome toe up

'Cause livin' up in the bay is like a muthaf**kin' zoo
Every nigga do whatever the f**k he gotta do
The muthaf**kin' rhyme did the crime last century
Now it's on parole because my mouth's in penitentiary

But back to the ghetto you see just about it all
Rest in peace to dead niggas on the wall
The shit it never stop because the nigga killed a cop
And now the cops are killin' the niggas twenty four around the clock
Around the block around the road in every ghetto
Muthaf**kas wanna drop

So I'm livin' like the devil
With the underground pound, muder facul sound
So niggas that f**k around lay around
And before I end this rhyme I'd like to say
Peace to my muthaf**kin' nine

The nine, the nine, the nine, the nine millimeter
The nine, the nine, the nine millimeter

Shootin' dice with some niggas that I didn't know
He pulled a nine when the double four hit the floe
I wonder why he'd wanna play me like a punk bitch
I thought he knew I was the one to let the nine click

I played his ass like Jesse James and shot him in the throat
I picked his tongue up out my mail, now I'm outty ho
I'm stressin' it's a f**ked up world G
I think about the shit that I used to see

Niggas runnin' 'round with the street sweepers
Muthaf**kas layin' dead loose change, beepers
Bitches screamin' about the niggaz gettin' f**ked up
f**k his bitch too, she was stuck up

One eight seven muthaf**ka that's my showcase
I'll load the clip and kill a whole muthaf**kin' race
I'm stressed out like a muthaf**ka
Bitch got me for a twenty, damn clucka

Yeah, your right I'm livin' wrong G
And I never gave a f**k about a dope fiend family
I seen a dope fiend killed last week
Left a bloody base pipe in the street

They burnt the bitch up in the trunk over eighty dollars
Started drivin' around the hood and I can hear her holla
Smoke comin' from the trunk bitch burnin' up
Cops turnin' down the streets they was turnin' up

I'm hearin' shots ring out twelve o'clock at night
A car full of dead niggas in the midnight
Because it gave the cops a reason just toshoot 'em up
But now they tape the shit off, so yo suit 'em up
And before I end this rhyme I'd like ta say
Peace to my muthaf**kin' nine

The nine, the nine, the nine, the nine millimeter
The nine, the nine, the nine millimeter

The police was comin' I had to dump the body
'Cause like I said on the city streets I'm John Gotti
When it comes to the gangsta rap shit
I do a drive by murder your whole click

See I'm a rebel without a pulse
'Cause in my neighborhood you learn not to walk
Without a nine in your draws, it's like American Express
Because a lot of crazy niggas wanna spill your flesh

But some crazy jealous muthaf**kas never sleep
I'm gettin' C B banner on the beep, beep, beep
Fill a, nigga to the rim like brim
Do a drive-by while I'm suckin' on a endo stem

Mix Hennessey with Thunderbird, gin and juice
I'm high as f**k, f**kin' around with one eight seven proof
Hard as a nickel but I'm quick as f**k to drop a dime
Because my boys got a nigga back prime time

Rata tata tat tat
Any bitch wanna squab it's like that
'Cause I ain't goin' out like a fag
Got the nigga for a ounce and a jag
Straight trip and pop the clip

Now I'm gettin' rich off his sip
Pick up my boys on the block and it's on
Slangin' dope by the drug free zone
Straight gangsta mack

Keyes over keyes over g's I stack
So when you step, step with caution
'Cause a nine to your throat'll have ya coughin'
The S P I C E, in a rage with a gauge gettin' P A I D

I ain't goin' out, f**k Mickey D's
I'd rather pimp hoes and clock g's
'Cause that's what a real nigga do to make a livin'
The talent of pimp was naturally given'
And before I end this rhyme I'd like to say
Peace to my muthaf**kin' nine

Yeah
I wanna say peace to my other muthaf**kin' nine
Yeah, Ant mutha f**kin' ba ba booga booga muthaf**kin' Banks
I wanna say what up to my nigga G muthaf**kin' mzz Nut, yeah
I wanna say what up to that girl Shorty muthaf**kin' B
In the muthaf**kin' house, and my muthaf**kin' DJ

Xtra mutha f**kin' large go on with your big ass, heh heh
Yeah, my nigga, MC muthaf**kin' Ant
Kickin' the funky shit with Spice muthaf**kin' 1
One eight seven in the muthaf**kin' house, peace

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Songwriter(s): George Clinton, Walter Morrison, Garry Shider, Lee Greene
Record Label(s): 1991, 1992 Zomba Recording LLC
Official lyrics by

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