| The city is a cool breeze day |
| Word takes place in the city of L.A. |
| I’m nine years old to be exact |
| Check the bell bottoms, brown shirt with the dusty ol' cap |
| Goin' to the inn to see my dad |
| And to get some new business |
| Two dollars what a bargain |
| I’m sittin' up the street while I’m humpin' a tune |
| The first time but witness somebody’s tryin' ta jack fool |
| The bump director was a also tryin' ta jack a '6−4 |
| Brothers tryin' ta tip-toe and yo Pointin' at gauges tryin' ta take a brother’s yea |
| He saw what was up, got out the beat and go and bail |
| He just had to run in my direction |
| But they smoked the players |
| Now he’s next to the sports section |
| But the player dropped the yea on the ground |
| So then I picked it up, run down and around |
| The corner, yo but through a nearby alley |
| Escaped through a tiny gate |
| 'Cos I was nickel slick |
| 'Cos I was nickel slick |
| 'Cos I was nickel slick |
| 'Cos I was nickel slick |
| Huffin' and puffin' but I finally got to the pad |
| My mother axe me where I was I said, «Yo, |
| I was over Snowy’s house playin' some marks» |
| She believed what I said so I went to my cars |
| You see I ship bones with my cousin, now he’s mentally slow |
| But he was a big ole kid, 6'5″, 300 pounds or more |
| Nicknamed 'Big Truck', took the shit out my pants around the product |
| Told my cousin we gotta hustle and bustle to make money back |
| I make connections, you watch my back |
| Set up a program, go and live instate |
| But I wasn’t sellin' drinks, I was sellin' big bags |
| O' hundreds and quarters of doves, yeah |
| At this time I was gettin' more pud, yo From this car and that car and everybody wanna caught glockin' |
| But me and Truck we was in luck |
| But the spot got hot, police raid, they took Truck to jail |
| But me, I got away, I was nickel slick |
| 'Cos I was nickel slick |
| I was nickel slick |
| 'Cos I was nickel slick |
| Four years past, now I’m thirteen |
| All-meat duster to go undercover |
| My cousin’s jail sentence was almost finished |
| Now we packin' the streets in a mix, in it to win it Calling cards, checkin' fools, checkin' names down |
| Now I’m steady sent to the ground |
| Other hustlers knew I was doin my best |
| cos I was a bawla young fly player from the West |
| All the pimped up cribs and comeona |
| I’m up on the city so that way I can hit corners |
| Now who would expect this little juvenile delinquent’s |
| Straight bawlin' y’all as they kept on bawlin' for it It was a smooth operation you see |
| 'Cos I had to your whole entire family lumpy |
| Five years swoop now I’m eighteen |
| I was steadily pimpin' Uncle Sam and foldin' the pimp game |
| At this time I was bust smokin' 5's |
| Hook us up with an eighty cell |
| Lei Long was in effect and he said, «Let's do this» |
| Gave it up to eat then I sighed all poopless |
| But Truck was left on the spot, he knew what I’d do Hooked my cousin up with the crib and effect, not |
| The Truck was livin' high, livin' schwell |
| Me, I’m gettin' paid for my mega record sales |
| So there it is, a player comin' up quick |
| I guess I drawn a whole organization of players that are nickel slick |
| I guess I was nickel slick |
| 'Cos I was nickel slick |
| I was nickel slick |
| Yo Stan, won’t cha price some nickel slick from me Right here, yeah, aha |
| Why don’t cha swing it up right here? |
| Aah yeah, wooh, nigga sanctified, aah, right here |
| Yo, I was a player that was nickel slick |