| Ay, you want me to spit some shit? | 
| Right now? | 
| What you wanna hear? | 
| Alright, check it out… | 
| Funky fresh for the AP-9-Tré | 
| Straight from the muthafuckin' northern Bay | 
| It’s The C-L-I-C-K, all up in your anus hole | 
| Loungin' in the deuce getting wild and loose | 
| A young loc get by fuckin' with St. Ides | 
| Watching my brother ‘cause I’m loving a pimp | 
| And I can’t wait until I learn his limp | 
| So I can walk that walk, mayne, and talk that talk | 
| Sport his clothes and fuck much hoes | 
| ‘Cause as a youngsta, I never knew Nathan | 
| But I knew a Franklin could get me some dank and | 
| I could get an ounce, break it down to 20s | 
| Make my money back and I still stack plenty | 
| With attitude, man, dude, I knew (What you knew?) | 
| That I’ma be a Savage in 1992 ('92, '93) | 
| A hog muthafucka, filled with anger | 
| A 30-round clip with one in the chamber | 
| And my mean mug foul, make me look suspicious (Why's that?) | 
| Because I’m way too vicious | 
| Now that I’m knowing some thangs | 
| You know, like running this here rap game | 
| Some ol' scandalous ass muthafucka wanna put dirt in my name | 
| Boy talkin' about E-40 and The Click, they the muthafuckas going around here | 
| doing all | 
| This damn jackin' | 
| Knowin' we ain’t doing nothing but rappin' | 
| We just some rapped out muthafuckas… MUTHAFUCKA! | 
| Never could be a busta… MUTHAFUCKA! | 
| Hella folks be lovin' us ‘cause we real about this shit | 
| My city is on the map now ‘cause of the different styles that we spit | 
| Eeny-meeny-miney-mo, catch a nigga by his curl | 
| Got my money, let him go, if not, nigga, shoot the hoe | 
| And let it be known that I’m strapped and ready | 
| ‘Cause it’s fonk when you fuckin' wit' fetti | 
| Scrappin' like hogs ‘til the end though | 
| And I was hittin' muthafuckas like indo | 
| Tackin' ‘em out, mayne, and that’s fa sho (Who was it?) | 
| Me and 40 Water, lettin' ‘em know | 
| That we was shakin' ‘em up, wreckin' ‘em up, breakin' ‘em off proper | 
| Bulletproof vest, Glock 10, and a chopper | 
| I go Sing Sing, sick in the head, Napa State retarded | 
| Hollow point hot ones dipped in garlic | 
| I ain’t no sucka, so don’t call me Lollipop | 
| Uh, fuck around and make me mad and I’ma blow my top | 
| (Where you from?) You see, I’m straight from the northern Bay where they spit | 
| loogies at | 
| Hoochies | 
| I’m down with The C-L-I-C-K and we smooth old schools, not Suzukis | 
| Beanie caps, pea coats, and all that | 
| Much dap to my little brother Young Mugzi way up there in Sac | 
| (What he doing?) Strapped after dark and I know he’s with this | 
| Huh, ‘cause we way too vicious | 
| Yeah, man, a muthafucka way too vicious in this whole shit, you know | 
| A muthafucka just can’t run up without getting done up, you know what I’m sayin' | 
| Muthafuckas overheads in this, boy, you gotta be on your P’s and Q’s, boy | 
| Watch your back at all times, mayne | 
| Know what I’m sayin', play your cards right, junior | 
| You never know what goes down on this side of town | 
| Ay B, drop that ol' shit about that other situation, mayne | 
| Shit got fonky again last night | 
| So I did a drive-by in broad daylight (Broad daylight?) | 
| Mobbed through the ghetto with the ski mask down | 
| Hopped out the Cut', let loose some rounds | 
| Boom boom boom (BOOM BOOM), and it was dropper | 
| On straight drama, I think I heard a nigga yell «Mama» | 
| But she can’t help ‘cause she was hittin' the dirt | 
| (What else?) Fucked up her hip, and ripped her skirt | 
| And guess who comes through? | 
| Who? | 
| Me? | 
| Perkin' off some of that Rossi | 
| Me and my whole Mossie | 
| Amped, geeked, juiced, stoned | 
| Twisted, burnt, full of it, gone | 
| In a four-barrel Camaro so we can get up out | 
| Ready to melt some muthafuckas and take the under route | 
| But here comes the po-po's (DAMN!) | 
| He fucked our whole little PROGRAM | 
| Now we gotta outsmart ‘em, skee-skrt | 
| Hit a couple of corners, that’ll work | 
| Turned off the lights, got out the car, and you can kiss this | 
| Bye-bye now, ‘cause we way too vicious | 
| Ay B, ay, the proof is in the pudding, boy | 
| Ay, muthafuckas way too vicious, boy | 
| Yeah, muthafucka come in here with a master plan, man | 
| Full diagram and the whole bit | 
| Ay, that’s real though, you know | 
| Ain’t no tellin', that’s what Jack told Helen | 
| Muthafuckas like us be like really bellin', mayne, you know | 
| Yeah, on the gooch though, you know | 
| Ay, been a long road though, boy | 
| Long road, mayne—we in here doing this shit though for the tré | 
| For the muthafuckin' tré | 
| Yeah, moving on, boy, Sick Wid It Records, boy | 
| Finna expand on they asshole, too | 
| Yeah | 
| Hahahaha, that’s real though | 
| Yeah | 
| We be keepin' that shit like on the super side | 
| On the super super super side | 
| Ay, pass me some of that Rossi though, junior | 
| Here you go, what | 
| The muthafuckin' Savage is in the house, hahahaha | 
| Yeah | 
| That’s real, nigga; | 
| that’s my muthafuckin' nigga |