1 - 800 - Spice Lyrics - Singles - Spice 1

Aw shit 

One of them fake-ass answer machines again 

1-800-fake-ass-answer-machine 

Mi-ni-mi pickin up da phone to hear da ring-a-ding-ling-a 

Mi hope ya not a cop, 'cause mi be slingin' dem things-a 

Da niggas up on mi block, dey got much love for da game-a 

Jah man, just put your hands up if you slingin' da caine-a 

Mi got to get mi propers, if it snow, shine or rain-a 

Mi pockets got di bumps 'cause mi so sick in da game-a 

Gafflin' muthafuckas, sellin' 'em rocks on da streets-a 

Ya want your money back, ya got to meet millimeter 

Mi maxin up on the block with dis nigga from the Fac-a 

Mi gots mi cellular phone, in the bushes was mi gat-a 

Ya can't fuck with mi posse 'cause mi posse be strapped 

Ya want your ganja, Xtra Large'll you a fat 20 sack-a 

The 187, the Faculty is back up in the house-a 

So roll up da canibus and put it up in your mouth-a 

Geah man 

Ha-ha 

Yeah, you tight with all that gangsta shit, partner, right? 

But I heard you ain't the nigga you claim to be, right? 

You one of them studio gangsta muthafuckas 

So what's up with that, nigga? 

Giggagiggada-gangsta, giggaggida-gangsta 

S-p-I-see-e is a real one, and not a pranksta 

Mi like to bust-bang, shootin' 'em up, mi glocks hang 

Shootin' out da window of mi drop-top Mustang 

Aim for da chest while Ant Banks hold di clip 

Mi buckin 'em down, mi buckin 'em down 'cause for mi kilo mi killa 

Roll up a twenty sack, call mi da gangsta mack 

Look down da street and you see me, nigga, slingin crack 

The dopeman set up shop on mi block 

So call 187 line and order your rock-a 

Geah man 

Ah yeah 

This, ah 

Liquor Store Willie, ah 

I want to, 

I want some for 10 dollars 

Can you do somethin' for me for 10? 

Mi nigga Ant Banks, 

Come down with di funky breakdown 

Damn man 

This ganja gets you fucked up, man 

Geah 

Mi need lick up another 20 sack 

Geah man 

Mi kickin' da rasta shit, but mi not Shabba Ranks-a 

Mi Spice 1, di mothafuckin' gangsta 

Mi smokin da dank and it just might make mi kill ya 

If you comin' at me talkin' about sinsemilia 

Mi nigga G-Nut put together Endonesia 

Mi call it Gaja, give me some fire-a 

Can't lit di ashes, hits me in mi eye-a 

Before mi lead bust got to get mi headrush 

Even though Endonesia make me nervous 

Mi got mi nine and mi coolin' up on di block 

Play mi for a fool, mi take his chest with mi glock 

Let dem niggas know not to be rushin mi knot 

So call 1-800 line and order your rock 

Geah man 

Uh yeah 

Uh this, eh 

Suck-Your-Dick Sally from the liquor store down the block 

Uh, I ain't got no money, but I'll suck your dick for a 10 piece 

Before mi lay mi start, let mi say peace to mi nine 

Cause in mi neighborhood young niggas do di crime 

It's a ghetto thang to the East Bay Gangsta 

The city streets make a nigga want to shank ya 

Break yourself, now you fucked in the game 

The killin' dance is a goddamn shame 

Money or murder, it's 187 proof-a 

So Ant Banks, bust da gin and da juice-a 

Mi signed with Jive, now mi Jive-ass nigga 

Break down di doja, roll it up a little bigger 

Mi watch da bitches 'cause da bitches a-gold digger 

So D the Poet, won't you pass mi the liquor 

The dopeman set up shop on mi block 

So call 1-800 and order your rocks 

Geah man 

Ah no, Spice 

I don't want no rocks and shit, man 

I'm callin 'cause I heard you was a fake-ass studio gangster 

Ain't never had a gun 

Ain't never been to jail 

Ain't never shot a muthafucka' 

And I'm just tired of this fake-ass shit you kickin' all over this tape 

I'm tired of it, man, I'm tired of it 

I ain't buyin' it 

Fuck that shit 

You fake, partner 

Fuck that 

Fuck that 

I'm out, man