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Artist: Big Pokey f/ Grim, Mack Biggers
Album:  Evacuation Notice
Song:   I'm a Gangsta
Typed by: Lil Hustle

Uh-huh for real...

[Big Pokey]
What you talking bout, you ain't saying a thang
I'm on the plane on my way outta state, put the gear on the train
It's a bunch of niggaz, playing the game
Catch ya at the light put the gun to ya, tell ya lay in your lane
Can't touch me, with a ten foot pole
Make me put my murder game down homie, on a six foot hoe
I'm a G, I'ma ride for mine
If you think you can beat me then see me, then I'ma rob you blind
I'ma show you how to walk it down, bitch nigga
Fucking with me and what's mine, it's blitz killers
I'ma grind for my scrilla, grit grind I'm a dealer
Got my hand on my gun, and I'm spitting mine for a milla
I'm a player, and I came to play
Still off the chain, these niggaz can't contain Sensei
It's the stone that hurt nigga, not the thangs you say
We flatlining everything in the way, I'm a gangsta

I'm a G, I'ma ride for mine
Fucking with a ki, flip a thousand times
Dog I get money, fifty thousand pounds
Plus the AR, flip a thousand rounds
I'm a gangsta, 0-8 we fin's to change the game
Pushing O-X, nigga changing lanes
Fo' do' skating, with a banging dame
What you talking bout, ya ain't saying a thang I'm a gangsta

[Mack Biggers]
Why ya'll mad, cause I'm keeping it gangsta
I'm from the planet of apes, so you people in danger
I'm in the kitchen, and I'm heating them thangs up
It's bricks in the trunk, and it's one in the chamber
Don't mess with Texas, I'm one of the rangers
My city's on fire, and I'm one of the bangers
I cop a brick, and stretch it three times that
That's an automatic flip nigga, three times that
In drug money, I'm three times plat'
I'm a hustler homie, I like to see mine stack
I can catch it for four, and get the same money
Trying to get the NFL, Hall of Fame money
Put it up at 45, count the same money
Wise man, I will tell my money bring money
So get back, or get shot at nigga
My squad's in this bitch, where your block at nigga


Stone hard to the boneyard, M-O-B
This for my niggaz in them cell blocks, you know me
This for my niggaz that fucking sell blocks, you know me
Posted up with a grind and fresh out, like fuck parole
But niggaz dying to hold, nigga Stone up
Blood niggaz grown up, ready to die for the 4
And I swear, I pray to God for my soul
Then call my connect, copping extra shit from the pounds I done sold
Spit bars, just to shit on niggaz
Flip chips stack money, the Mob deep and I don't quit on niggaz
Uh, and I don't quit on the block
Niggaz need quarter halves and whole, so I don't quit on the block
I fried off, cause I'ma get it off
I can have one in the chamber a gun in my face, and I'ma get it off
Stare death in the face, everytime I look in the mirror
My heart's cold, so I don't really give a fuck bout niggaz