Master P: Time for a 187

-Uhhh, niggas than fucked up -Nigga, its time to roll -Pass me them nigga chasers -Time to do a 187 -Its time for a murder -If you a G nigga, load your shit up Some nigga got some bad ice cream, came short on the d-zough Bout to hit the window gats out the window and goin crazy, niggas can't phase me If you come up short, niggas bout to read daisies This your final call, I mean your final breath And when I hit you with that tech I'm bout to put you to rest I'm crazy, psycho and outie Niggas can't fuck with me the set is fuckin cloudy Lay your ass face down on your stomach You know you dead for fuckin with my money P don't take no shit Everyday all day I'm breakin bread 24/7 Tryin to get paid And lose these hoes in the dope game Cause I be crazy, psycho call me the murder man Hustla, balla put you in the funeral parlor 911 in your pager And haul you, and when you call back you dead bitch You bust up my Chevy and missed now who you playin' with Its time to face death Last smoke, last dash you last jump I'ma let you live, psyche Chorus: It's time for a 187 (drive slow, dim the lights) I think I see the enemy (time to do this) A 187 (drive slow) I think I see the enemy (dim the lights) A 187 (time to do this) I think I see the enemy (roll down the window) This will be your last drink, nigga (roll down yo window) Just did a who-ride, meaning a homicide Did a drive-by fuck it I'm from the Southside To Richmond, California niggas don't give a fuck But if you come shizzort, you in that black truck Get you nose swollen, I mean your neck broken When we break you off that 44, face down cause it's danger Niggas from the south keep one up in the chamber I mean we G's Who you be, what set you with Nigga do you know me If you don't you dead Ain't no love for cockroaches, cause roaches get sprayed And ain't no fear in my heart cause I'm TRU, bullets in my vein See my tattoo, TRU cross my stomach Eyes hella-red been up all night countin drug money But ready to roll with my homies And after the party, once again its on G Chorus I'm gone off that doja, I think I see dem' rollers That ain't gon' stop me from takin your head off your shoulder I'm from the projects, we live a eye for eye When you fuck with mine's you gotta die And if your name get scratched off the wall bitch There you go, just took a fall trick When that No Limit tank start hittin' Nigga them gats start spittin, good riddance You better run like "The Running Man" but if you ain't Schwarzenegger, bitch this your last game That beam at your forehead I don't give a fuck, you can't run from the infrared And when I catch you, you murdered Lying on you back, stuck like a turtle Got cho' head weaving and wobbling Crying, you scared to die you slobbin You beggin for you life I'm a give you somethin to make you feel alright Chorus