We Starvin'

"WE STARVIN'"
KRAYZIE BONE featuring E-40 and Gangsta Boo

E-40:
Krayzie Bone, E-Fezie-fonzarezi & Gangsta Boo. What?

Krayzie and Gangsta Boo:
It’s the end of the world and still niggas ain’t got no satisfaction. [We can’t get no . . .]
It’s the end of the world, muthafuckas ain’t got no satisfaction [satisfaction.]
We starvin' as we chase the paper, and trust it, man. Nigga, man, niggas hate you. Fuck 'em, get your gun and get ya cheese. We got just a little time left. If I'm not mistaken, the year is '99. But we don’t really know when we gon' die. Shit, most niggas don’t know how they still alive on this unmerciful, wicked planet. If ya can’t pay for your life, you're gonna vanish, vanish.

E-40:
You're lookin' at livin' proof--renovated, condemned, duplex, pots and pans, leaks in the roof, dirty dishes, no dishwasher soap, no medical coverage, bad case of Strep throat. Mama thinks she got arthritis. My neighbor caught hepatitis from a simple yawn. They say it's airborne. We ain’t got no street lights; they all broken--just take a trip through Vallejo, Richmond, and Oakland, and everyday it's a funeral. He was my numero uno, but I can't bring him back. All I know is he was stressin', takin' anti-depressants. [What they do?] They found him dead in the trunk of his Cadillac. And I'm so withdrawalled, all I could think about is revenge. Always check up, always pullin' licks, and doin' dirty work for dividends. He took the bullet for me. I'm the one that really robbed the place. Boy, I've been tryin' to paper-chase.

Krayzie and Gangsta Boo:
We starvin' as we chase the paper, and trust it, man. Nigga, man, niggas hate you. Fuck 'em, get your gun and get ya cheese. We got just a little time left. If I'm not mistaken, the year is '99. But we don’t really know when we gon' die. Shit, most niggas don’t know how they still alive on this unmerciful, wicked planet. If ya can’t pay for your life, you're gonna vanish, vanish.

Gangsta Boo:
I done grew up in the game, baby. Ain’t nothin changed. Little money, little fame, baby. I’m still the same, baby. Lady's gotta make it. I can’t be takin' no losses. I'm the bomb of the party, always askin', "Where are the dollars?" Now I know you hate me, 'cause I hooked up with Krayzie. Baby, I’m with whatever that pay me. Gangsta Boo be with it, be with it, so what the fuck? I’ll see you at the end of the year, so good luck!

Krayzie and Gangsta Boo:
We starvin' as we chase the paper, and trust it, man. Nigga, man, niggas hate you. Fuck 'em, get your gun and get ya cheese. We got just a lil' time left. If I'm not mistaken, the year is '99. But we don’t really know when we gon' die. Shit, most niggas don’t know how to stay alive on this unmerciful, wicked planet. If ya can’t pay for your life, you're gonna vanish, vanish.

Krayzie:
I made it, and I know it’s almost over. Call in the soldiers. Better be ready to bomb back on 'em. Know your enemy's position at all time--where they at and how much power they hold and how many soldiers they got down the road. But in the meantime, you make your money. Even if you strike it rich, you better hustle like you hungry for your paper, paper, paper. These days only ways that pays can save you. Livin' your life is like a task, if you ain’t got the cash. Nigga, mad at the world as I put my mask over my face, and I grabbed the magnum pistol with the stash in the bag. I'm doin' a pop pop, so drop, and take it as a loss and chalk it. Now you can take your life and keep on walkin' [Just keep on walkin'.], or be killed for tryin' to deny me a meal. I do what I gotta do, let's keep it real for niggas in the hood upon the block. Let 'em know they understood. Buckin' shots, nigga, me livin' raw mentality war. So paranoia got me sleepin' on the floor, watchin' the door. This no-win situation of tryin' to stay alive until we die. And anyway you go, we won't make it. No way to shake your fate. You better take advantage of your life while you can--get rich, kick back, relax, spend your money, man. I'm all about paper. Sorry, no party tonight, the year is 1999--last year to get your money, right!

E-40:
That's real. You undersmell me? Suckas do what they can; playas do what they want. Dig it? Charlie Hustle, everytime up in your talk. Yeah, face it. Krayzie Bone, Gangsta Boo, fuckin' they nose like this. This how we fuckin' they nose up--dig it nigga? Yeah, paper chasin', nigga. Paper route [paper route]. You undersmell me? We starvin'. You undersmell me nigga? Yeah, don't let the marbles control you. Yeah, chest-high up in the marbles, nigga . . .