Master P - Ghetto D
[Intro: Master P]
() Imagine substituting
Crack () for music ()
I mean dope tapes, this is how we would make it (There it is right there)
For all you players, hustlers, ballers and even you smokers
Ghetto Dope, No Limit Records
Part of the Tobacco, Firearms, and Freedom of Speech Committee (Ma— Ma— Ma— Ma— Make crack like this)
Thank you dope fiends for your support, haha
[Verse 1: C-Murder]
Let me give a shoutout to the D-boys (Drug dealers)
Neighborhood dope man, I mean real niggas
That'll make a dollar out of fifteen cents
Ain't got a job, but a rock can pay the rent
Professional crackslanger I serve fiends
I once went to jail for having rocks up in my jeans
But nowadays, I be too smart for the task
C-Murder been known to keep the rocks up in a Skittles bag
Waitin' on a kilo, they eight, I'm straight, you dig?
What you need, ten? Ain't no fuckin' order too big
And makin' crack like this is the song
You won't be getting your money if your shit be cooked wrong
Overcook your dope, it might come out brown
Them fiends gon' run your ass clean outta town
But fuck that, I'm 'bout to put my soldiers in the game
And tell you how to make crack from cocaine
One, look for the nigga with the whitest snow
Two, no buying from no nigga that you don't know
Make your way to the kitchen where the stove be
You get the baking soda, I gots the D
And get the triple beam and measure up your dope
Mix one gram of soda every seven grams of coke
And shake it up until it bubble up and get harder
Then sit the tube in some ready-made cold water
Twist the bitch like a knot while it's still hot
And watch that shit rock and rise to the fuckin' top
And now your cocaine powder is crack ()
Nigga, I hope you're strapped, 'cause you might get jacked
[Chorus]
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[Verse 2: Silkk the Shocker]
My phone rang, I picked it up (I need some weight)
What you need? (Silkk, 'bout a couple of cakes)
I had it all into powder, but it ain't no thang
Gimme a couple of hours, I'll have it all into 'caine
Trust nobody but my gun and God, ask Mac and Kane & Abel
Probably catch me choppin' D, choppin' ki's up on my mom table
I got a big order for some coke, I called some hoes up
I want y'all buck naked while you cookin' up my dope
I told y'all, we some Tru G's
See me and P and C in Expeditions with Uzis
Breakin' down two ki's, baby, that's twenty-four O-Zs a piece
'Cause see if it ain't about money, then it ain't about me
Hella mail from sales, hella yayo for scales
Come up short on my money, I'm jumpin' your ass like bail
First of all, you gotta have nuts, don't give a fuck
See, when I bust, niggas duck, 'cause they know if I miss, it ain't by much
Then get you a Glock that hold you seventeen
A couple dope fiends, some O-Zs, the triple beam, uh
And then, playa, hit your block
And tell the biggest nigga to raise up off the spot or get got
I'm rowdy, that's why I act like this
But I'm ridin' rims on gold Ds 'cause I sold crack like this (, )
[Chorus]
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[Verse 3: Master P]
Nigga, nigga never let a nigga front you no dizzope
Start from a gram, work your way up a kilo
Get some killers on your team
Keep one up in the chamber for the jackers and the dope fiends
Fools come short, get rowdy
Kick down doors, show motherfuckers that you 'bout it, 'bout it
Break ki's down to O-Zs
Never buy dope without weighin' it on a triple beam
Fuck soda, use B-12
Keep a stash for the droughts and take other niggas clientele
Check the mayonnaise jar for residue
'Cause every fiend you miss want three or two
One, never talk on the phone in your house
Two, never slang dope out your baby mama's house
Three, never fuck with snitches
'Cause niggas that talk to the police is bitches
Four, keep it low-key
And if you're movin' weight, treat yourself to an Uzi
The first hit for free (Damn)
But the next time you beep me, you betta have twenty, G
Five, never pay
Pimp hoes for the pussy, that's the 'Merican way
Clean up your dirty money to good money
'Cause legal money last longer than drug money
[Chorus]
()
()
()
()
()
() Imagine substituting
Crack () for music ()
I mean dope tapes, this is how we would make it (There it is right there)
For all you players, hustlers, ballers and even you smokers
Ghetto Dope, No Limit Records
Part of the Tobacco, Firearms, and Freedom of Speech Committee (Ma— Ma— Ma— Ma— Make crack like this)
Thank you dope fiends for your support, haha
[Verse 1: C-Murder]
Let me give a shoutout to the D-boys (Drug dealers)
Neighborhood dope man, I mean real niggas
That'll make a dollar out of fifteen cents
Ain't got a job, but a rock can pay the rent
Professional crackslanger I serve fiends
I once went to jail for having rocks up in my jeans
But nowadays, I be too smart for the task
C-Murder been known to keep the rocks up in a Skittles bag
Waitin' on a kilo, they eight, I'm straight, you dig?
What you need, ten? Ain't no fuckin' order too big
And makin' crack like this is the song
You won't be getting your money if your shit be cooked wrong
Overcook your dope, it might come out brown
Them fiends gon' run your ass clean outta town
But fuck that, I'm 'bout to put my soldiers in the game
And tell you how to make crack from cocaine
One, look for the nigga with the whitest snow
Two, no buying from no nigga that you don't know
Make your way to the kitchen where the stove be
You get the baking soda, I gots the D
And get the triple beam and measure up your dope
Mix one gram of soda every seven grams of coke
And shake it up until it bubble up and get harder
Then sit the tube in some ready-made cold water
Twist the bitch like a knot while it's still hot
And watch that shit rock and rise to the fuckin' top
And now your cocaine powder is crack ()
Nigga, I hope you're strapped, 'cause you might get jacked
[Chorus]
()
()
()
()
() ()
()
[Verse 2: Silkk the Shocker]
My phone rang, I picked it up (I need some weight)
What you need? (Silkk, 'bout a couple of cakes)
I had it all into powder, but it ain't no thang
Gimme a couple of hours, I'll have it all into 'caine
Trust nobody but my gun and God, ask Mac and Kane & Abel
Probably catch me choppin' D, choppin' ki's up on my mom table
I got a big order for some coke, I called some hoes up
I want y'all buck naked while you cookin' up my dope
I told y'all, we some Tru G's
See me and P and C in Expeditions with Uzis
Breakin' down two ki's, baby, that's twenty-four O-Zs a piece
'Cause see if it ain't about money, then it ain't about me
Hella mail from sales, hella yayo for scales
Come up short on my money, I'm jumpin' your ass like bail
First of all, you gotta have nuts, don't give a fuck
See, when I bust, niggas duck, 'cause they know if I miss, it ain't by much
Then get you a Glock that hold you seventeen
A couple dope fiends, some O-Zs, the triple beam, uh
And then, playa, hit your block
And tell the biggest nigga to raise up off the spot or get got
I'm rowdy, that's why I act like this
But I'm ridin' rims on gold Ds 'cause I sold crack like this (, )
[Chorus]
()
()
() ()
()
() ()
()
()
[Verse 3: Master P]
Nigga, nigga never let a nigga front you no dizzope
Start from a gram, work your way up a kilo
Get some killers on your team
Keep one up in the chamber for the jackers and the dope fiends
Fools come short, get rowdy
Kick down doors, show motherfuckers that you 'bout it, 'bout it
Break ki's down to O-Zs
Never buy dope without weighin' it on a triple beam
Fuck soda, use B-12
Keep a stash for the droughts and take other niggas clientele
Check the mayonnaise jar for residue
'Cause every fiend you miss want three or two
One, never talk on the phone in your house
Two, never slang dope out your baby mama's house
Three, never fuck with snitches
'Cause niggas that talk to the police is bitches
Four, keep it low-key
And if you're movin' weight, treat yourself to an Uzi
The first hit for free (Damn)
But the next time you beep me, you betta have twenty, G
Five, never pay
Pimp hoes for the pussy, that's the 'Merican way
Clean up your dirty money to good money
'Cause legal money last longer than drug money
[Chorus]
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