Shady Times - Web, Mac Dre

What’s happenin'?

Some of that old gangsta, leave a nigga in a ditch type shit, you know?

Yeah

We playas but we gangstas, too, nigga

Mac Dre and Young Web finna put it down in a real way

Check it out

Have a seat, grab a blunt, relax your back

I’mma about to kick some facts to make you feel that you’ve been jacked

I attack, at any cost, without no means

Packin' AP-9's, AK’s with infrared beams

It seems some kids up in this game need to be taught a lesson

Nigga, one suggestion: let’s call together a funk session

‘Cause when I bust, I bring major pain

Keith Sweat would wanna cross out in my type of rain

Nigga, my lyrics is something make the others spread the reputation

I’m bustin' with a sensation that’ll leave you in devastation

Fry like bacon

This money I’m takin' to fill my pockets

Fools be tryin' to stop but I be blowin' up like rockets

Your arm sockets, legs and waist stay left

The only thing this nigga about to meet now is his death

The point I’m makin' potna is don’t test me ‘cause I’m packin' a .380

Muthafucka when times are shady

Yeah, Young Web, niggas ain’t knowin'

It can get real funky around here, you know?

So goddamn drastic after I hit a nigga with the plastic, right?

Nigga, I hung that fool off the Carquinez while that gun fell off me and I’m

sideways

Yeah, straight gangsta shit, nigga

I’m a skrilla getta, that’ll kill a nigga about grits

And I’m quick to trip and slip on my mitts

And put hands on a snake if I peep some scandal

Beat niggas up just like Frankie Randall

If I can’t handle, that ass from the shoulders

That’s when I dash and get the pistola

You didn’t know a playa had G shit in him?

Well, send a nigga at me, I’ll put three clips in him

So goddamn fast and won’t leave one clue

And be cryin' at the funeral just like you

I thought you knew, fool, when it comes to this

Gangsta type shit, niggas run from this

I got stripes, stars, bars and medals

For puttin' in work doin' dirt in the ghetto

I’m an O.G.

and a H-O-G

A muthafuckin' hog and they don’t wanna see

My vicious tactics ‘cause shit gets drastic

Leave ‘em bleedin' and blasted, ready for a casket

I’m real with it, and love to ill with it

You trippin' off Mac Dre?

Then potna let’s deal with it

The 707 North Bay soldier

I thought you knew?

I know somebody told ya

Yeah, I know somebody told yo' punk ass

Never no Cutt will lie when the drama flies

Just gon' be homicides ‘cause we makin' some mamas cry, you know?

So go get your black dress, bitch, yeah

Because we flowamatic when countin' C-notes, sucka

Gettin' skrilla

These muthafuckas best’a recognize that I be packin' the ammo

Like Commando, then I’ll light yo' ass like a candle

But I’m Rambo, up on a mission up in the jungle

To knock down a couple of stables and get ‘em for they bundle

I made ‘em crumble, from the parts that I pack

Bustin' with M-16, Calicoes and Macs

Automatic gats, that’s what I use to kill all gangs

They send in Web ‘cause he’s trained, when I’m let loose, I’m insane

There’s blood stains, ‘cause I was blowin' up shit from the start

I takes my steps, was smellin' death and lookin' at body parts Does this sparks

But I’m the only nigga that lasts

Puttin' body parts up in caskets and burn ‘em all down to ash

Stupid ass bastards

What you tried to do was unforgettable

Your gun’s quiz was death and it wasn’t even that damn difficult

Nigga, tryna send your damn lady

Web and Dre be packin' .380s when times are shady

Yeah, when times are shady it goes down

I got my pen foul, the crowd’s runnin' wild ‘cause the guns *pow*

It’s the AP with the 50-clip and these fools can’t get with me

Young Web causin' fatalities, nigga, when it gets drippy

Shitty committee, sucka

My style is foul, I break laws, never legal

Glued to the track strapped with my Desert Eagle

Servin' them suckas, a muthafucka start drama

I might let him live but bust a cap in his mama

Yeah I’m a playa, playa, but playas play with bitches

When it come to them trick snitches my trigger finger itches

Ready to peel a cap off a punk ass, drunk ass

Nigga startin' static, take his life and his punk ass

Dre is a killa, drug dealer, ex-convict

Suckas say I’m sick, some drop dimes quick

‘Cause I’m an ill nigga and ill niggas kill niggas

Who alert the 5−0 and the money gettin' real, nigga

Takin' out cousins, even steppin' to nieces

Send ‘em to the grave now they restin' in pieces

I’m 5150, a stone cold J-cat

Jackin' muthafuckas so my pockets they stay fat

Rappin' ain’t shit but a slow grind, so I’m

Hittin' licks quick gettin' rich in no time

Ask about my work and they say ‘He gets green

Runnin' up in shit with his AR-15'

The Mac named Dre is a big fool, sick fool

And if you ain’t down then suck my dick, fool

I don’t give a fuck about a nigga or bitch too

I run with a big crew, and yeah, they sick too

Ha ha ha ha, yeah

Y’all put that down

Let them suckas know how it go in that big Bay Area

Pimps, playas, rhyme-sayers, gangstas and big bankstas

Suckas, stay back, ‘cause you know we stay strapped

Yeah, this is Young Web comin' at that ass for the 9-muthafuckin-6

This is for all the muthafuckin' Crestsiders, the real riders

To my muthafuckin' cuddie Young Nico

That’s right, that Rompalation, this D-Con, fool

And that shit is hoodrat party for your mind, nigga

Yeah, can’t fuck with this… or get enough of this

1996 punk bitch

Mac muthafuckin' Dre is back through here, tearin' shit up

Lettin' them suckas have it

Fuckin' aliens