Ya Boy – 100 Bars Of Death lyrics

[Intro: 2Pac]
I'm not saying I'm gonna change the world
But I guarantee that I will spark the brain
That will change the world

[Verse 1: Ya Boy]
Better show respect before I lose it
The whole world know Precise is more than music
A movement, look at all the goons that I move with
Homies, guns, vest & boots on that platoon shit
Best, hardest in the West, yes, literally
The fans comparing me to who? Come on, ya killing me
The enemy keep trying, but can't get rid of me
Bombs like Timothy, arms like a centipede
Hoes through his door, make sure he's a memory
One nigga, but I got 'em shook like there's ten of me
Go hard in hip-hop, hope they remember me
Screamin' "Thug Life" like a 2Pac Mini-Me
Any beef? Tell 'em to bring it special delivery
I bet my little friend will put 'em outta his misery
These niggas wanna finish me and send me to the Reverend
Honestly, there's probably better competition in heaven
Holla at me, Fillmore bitch, we dollar happy
You would think I was strippin' the way hoes throw dollars at me
I'm the ma'fuckin' spiteful, delightful, iteful
The new Ice Cube, bust my guns and rock mics too
So what's good? Either you Crip or you Blood
Somebody call Khaled, tell 'em "Ya Boy was hood"
If he joke like DeRay, my heat like D. Wade
Shots to his face, make him sing like T-Pain
Stuff him in the trunk, then I dump the remains
Nowadays all that rappin' is is a free chain
If a nigga ever look at me as a free chain
He's not gonna make it like his plane got delayed
I'm talking to the real, if you fake, then get lost
Them block musclemen, hustlin' like Rick Ross
Real talk, I'd rather sit than snitch dawg
Cause quick jaws get a nigga smoked like menthols
I'm way outta they league, who hotter than me?
Gotcha favorite R&B bitch swallowin' me
I ain't lyin', look I'm so fly I should be flyin'
Maybe that's the reason why ya girl keep eyein'
I'm eyein' her back, Louie purse with the hat
I'm not a trick, but I'm rich, so I'm buyin' her that
And I'm tired of this rap beef, tired of that gay shit
I thought he wanted war, he seen me and didn't say shit
I'm outta this world, when you see me I'm like a spaceship
Lights everywhere, make it bright anywhere
Got the sun on my neck, full moon on my wrist
Da-da-diamonds in my mouth and it's all on a bitch
I guess I took notes from Kevin Federline, every time
Milk a bitch like a cow, every cent, every dime
Never been to jail, but I done done hella crimes
Moved to Malibu, now I got 'em thuggin' in Pepperdine
Gimme mine, if a nigga say I ain't the top five
Dead or alive, remove his head and his spine
I load the lead in the nine and leave him dead on arrival
You sittin' on the shelf, what the fuck did you sign for?
Catch me with the Crips and the Bloods don't mind, no
I don't bang colors, I'm a damn albino
Drunk like a wino, hard like a rhino
Flyin' through ya time zone, looking for a fine ho
Rihanna, Alicia, Mya, big pimpin'
I'll even take a white girl like Jessica Simpson
Make sure she licks it, kiss my Limp Bizkit
Tape it, need a witness, this is big business
I'm heavy with SRCs like Steve Rifkind
I'm talkin' some real clientele, nigga listen!
Drop 'em a line, that's all I do is go fishin'
Get 'em hooked on me then I turn 'em into fish sticks
This is -- 100 BARS OF DEATH if ya listenin'
I ain't like these other niggas, I can go the distance
Ya fans in my hands, so you know that I'ma clinch it
The rap game dirty, but somebody gotta rinse it
I don't even spit shit, I just go and rip shit
That's why these hoes put me on like lipstick
That's why these hoes put Ya Boy on they hit list
Swag like a ma'fucka, I'm the new Slick Rick
La-di-da-di, sawed-off shawty
Ridin' through the hood, bout' to flip somebody
"How you rap like that?" It's just somethin' 'bout me
I step in the booth and the shit just comes at me
Niggas wanna shoot me, niggas wanna rob me
Fuck that, .40 cal here right beside me
Niggas can't deny he, hotter than Mojave...
...Desert in the middle of summer, let's have ménage
I be, killin' other rappers like a hobby
Niggas take pictures of women like they surround me
I don't even trip, I don't block no head
I tell them hoes, "Do me," like Rocko said
But you can get up outta here if you ain't got no bread
Cause even my bed, got a Ferragamo spread, yeah
I mean Scrooge McDuck bucks
And if a nigga say I ain't nice then he probably get butt fucked
I catch you in the hood all I'll say is "tough luck"
Don't holla "Precise Gang," ya get fucked up
What-what? Cut a nigga up like Nip/Tuck
You might as well kill ya self like a wrist cut
And everybody in the whole hood know it's us
The way them doors no longer swing, they lift up
The way them boys gon' do they things with big bucks
Big homes, big diamond rings and big trucks
Despite that, I'm tryna sell like Mike Jack
I even get the fans that don't like rap
Keep it a hundred, so it's a must I write that
Spit so much crack The Feds got the mic tapped

[Outro]
Yeah, holla at me
PRECISE GANG!
YA BOY!
I suggest you keep me healthy West Coast
West Coast, I suggest you keep me healthy
Haha!
Y.B
I'm on one
InfaRed on this ma'fucka
Yeah, come on