(Intro [Snoop]) No Limit. Soldiers. (Ughhhhhhhh!) DPGC. Gangstas. (Ha, ha!) Look here, you got three crazy muthafuckas in the same place at the same time. (Yeah, Master P.) You know this shit gon be off the hook. (It's gon be the wildest shit you ever heard.) For my bitches down south. Southern hospitality. (Representin, ya heard me!)
[Snoop] From the cold, hard streets of the LBC To a duet with Mystikal and Master P Real G's ship keys and shoot dice on their knees And put pistols to the mouths, of their enemies Old country ass nigga with a gold in the front Be the same muthafucka that get your bitch ass stomped Underestimatin hatin got you knocked out cold Tryin to play my boy over, you was with your hoe Them South niggas bangin off the shit that we write Punk niggas get killed, straight on sight No Limit ain't no gimmick It's tragic you know, so don't be meddlin with my boy and my hoe Lay low, hit the floor, I'm back Yo P, take me to the streets, that's where my heart is at You make em say Ughhhhhhh! I make em say beeyatch Together we can flip the script and get grip You got the crack, I got the bud sack Mystikal, smack, you got the strap Deep in that gangsta shit on a night like that You blast me, I blast you back, beeyatch!
Chorus: X 2 We bout to jump off with some gangsta shit Gangsta shit! We bout to hop off with some gangsta shit Gangsta shit! Know what, we're bout to jump off with some gangsta shit Gangsta shit!
[Mystikal] Got this fuckin party poppin You cappin and army braggin Gon keep smugglin in this game shit "Niggas ain't rappin" what you say about gangsta rappin You get killed forever, my nigga, every day Where you get fucked up nigga, is where you lay Time again I tried to tell you, but you ain't wanna heard what I say Damn leather dog bombin Done made a mistake We made (something is faded in the background) sound so good Keep that gangsta shit banging up and down your hood Cause only real gangstas get down and to the bottom Where y'all going, that much, we'll see right through ya I'll out hustle ya, can't put up a fight cause I out muscle ya My really don't give a fuck attitude got ya feelin uncomfortable I got that there, nigga you ain't saying shit I'm colder than a brand new pair of Stan Smiths Fresher than a whole box of green Altimos But I got to blow your head off and put bullet holes in your Girbauds
[Master P] B-O-U-T we bout it Real gangstas live muthafuckin rowdy And where you from is how you come Where you be or you're at Fool, watch your back for these gangstas in that black from Long Beach to New Orleans, from every nigga in the hood to the penitentiary Tryin to, survive on these streets Slangin dope cause the kids gotta eat Put it in a car or a plane, Grey Hound or a train Sixty five when it came, eighty nine when it lay I'm in love with miss mo mo, candy painted four Twenty skirt with convertible, fuckin polo Bring the stylins of your talk I mean real gangstas don't talk Free your mind and refugee Alive and turn your cheeks like Pras be