I'm A Thug
    (专辑: Rapper Gone Bad - 1999)
    
    Yeah yeah  This is a 
money-motivated song, man, right?  If you're allergic to paper  You might not fit in when niggaz gon' have do a 
caper, man  Yeah  We ain't allergic to paper, man  So we gon' try to turn you niggaz around, man  Yamean?  Yeah  We gon' try to motivate y'all to get your money  Cause we money-motivators   [Verse 1: Dubee]  The 
way I 
steer up out this here bitch, so detrimental how a 
 PS real click with that double r 
[? ] 
partner  530, I'm dirty, hate to say it  Represent turf tight and tight with major players  With mo' seasoning, suckers be sneakin in the 
circle  Urkle niggaz soakin every line, still ain't with the 
verbals  Get to hoppin hurdles like Jesse Owens in the 
fast  Return-type tactics so quick shakin that past  In they entourage bitches be hazy like the 
samurais  Get the 
mullah, stay savage and suave  Now is that savage? Well certainly  Still I 
keep it global  Multiple skyscraper paper, unknown total  Who we? Who that be? Dubee, ask your peoples  I 
leave Sasqwatch footprints and keep it off the 
heezo  Cizzo please, it ain't no need in hawkin  Ain't no please believe, I 
breathe [? ] 
back yamean?   [Chorus]  The 
way I 
feel about loot  Ooh, it ain't no doubt about it  I'm a 
thug   [Verse 2: PSD]  Say how you do, sir?  Well, everything is everything, how 'bout you, brah?  Man, I'm tryin to get my paws on some loot, sir  If it ain't scratch it ain't shit, how 'bout you, sir?  Yeah that's the 
truth, brah  Say I'm a 
natural, call me 7-11  Playboy, it's factual, I 
stay high as the 
heaven  I'm like the 
castle  On the 
chess boards slide front to backwards  Up and down, side to side, boy, we at this  Me, Dre and Dubee savages in the 
masses  They call my type of people roguish-ass bastards  I 
pull a 
babe in and tell her flip the 
matress  And get the 
cash quick  Now player listen, this ain't no test of your broadcast system  Them niggaz PSD and them be comin with em  It ain't no puzzle how I 
feel about my scrillas  Gotta feed my chil'ens   [Chorus]   [Verse 3: Mac Dre]  At the 
building, chilling, living anxious  Waitin for this bitch to deliver some papers  The 
same routine every day  Get hit then I 
split the 
Chevrolet  The 4 
15's shake the 
mirror  When the 
EB's quake couldn't sound no clearer  Feelin so cool in my old school  Ain't trippin off a 
bitch, I 
need some mo' loot  Oh, you ain't know you better check my file  I 
get stupid doo-doo dumb, don't sweat the 
style  Me and my niggaz represent the 
real  Don't think we kill? Bet a 
100 dollar bill  I'm a 
leave a 
body, no leads or clues  Clepto committee, bitch, we some fools  Killas for the 
scrilla, sucker, can't you tell?  The 
real motherfuckers representin Vallejo