CMT & E-A-Ski - Trigga Gots No Heart lyrics

The trigga gots no heart (the trigga a trigga) [Repeat] Verse 1 I'm sick up in this game I'll take no secondary shorts & Slam dunk these riddles up in yo' chest like Jordan Menace II Society mad man k**er Just call me the East Bay Gangsta Neighborhood drug dealer Quick to make decisions & I'm Quick to get my blast on Do a 187 with this bloody Jason mask on Rollin' up out the cut deeper than Atlantis Tore his chest apart left his heart on the canvas Now I gots mo' mayo than the rest of the pushers Rat a tat tat tat came my Tec from the bushes I blast with no heart cause I'm heartless in nine-trey A-K blast on that a** if in my way, gangsta Slangin' 'Cola since the very very start Much love for this game so the trigga gots no heart Ain't no love trick The trigga gots no heart [Repeat] (gunshot) Verse 2 Release the trigga as I blast on a n***a Nina put a cease on his Timex ticker And uhh playas he can't give me no love Cause I'm stuck on the corna in the ghetto Slangin' dub sacks And I duck when they fly by Cause k**a Cali' is the state for the drive-by Caps peel from the gangstas in my hood Ya better use that nina Cause that deuce-deuce ain't no good And umm I'm taking up a hobby Maniac murderin' doin' ma**acre robbery I'm twenty-two & I'm still slangin' dub sacks I gives the fiend some love but ain't no love back Much love in this game ain't no love gangsta 187 is a art cause the trigga gots no heart Ain't no love trick The trigga gots no heart Ain't no love trick Me shootin' him up me shootin' him up If he no give my pay Ain't no love trick [Repeat] Verse 3 The trigga gots no heart & I'll be damned if I'm broke old Pushin' on a shoppin cart They blast on a friend of me Another sad case of a mistaken identity 12 O' clock & my 'hood's dubbin' pay back I sat & watched them shoot my homey Seen his face crack Uzis spray like Raid on these co*kroaches A dropped bomb full of 187 soldiers Doin' dirt cause we dirty when the trigga pull Seventeen in his body left the boy full Of hollow tips so I know he won't be comin' back I let my hair platt & let my mail stack But my sweet sweet Sunday had to turn tart His posse came & they triggas had no heart Me k** all man say k** all man say k** 'em all man k** 'em all with me Glock Glock k** all man say k** all man say k** 'em all man k** 'em all with me Glock Glock k** all man say k** all man say k** 'em all man k** 'em all with me Glock Glock Yeah mon blam! The 187 fact Is back in the house man for nine-trey This here see k** a man wit me Glock BLOW!! 187 thousand G