415 - Side Show

(Hurry, hurry, step right up
and see the side show in town
for only 50 cents)

[ D-Loc ]
Wait, wait, cut this shit, man
This ain't no muthafuckin side show
Rich, kick the side show

( *DJ Daryl cuts up* )
(1)
(2)
(3)
(Make it funky)

[ Richie Rich ]
It's a Saturday night, my girl's actin real shitty
Due to the fact I just left Campbell City
Straight lace Zeniths and vogues all on point
On my way to the Town to get a doja joint
Pushed it to the 7 to get some dank
Hit the liquor store to cold get drank
Now I got my doja, sippin on Nitro
Peace playboy, I'm on my way to the side show
Down [Street Name] to the light
Let me warm it up, I ( ? ) tight
There's a Chevy on my side, windows straight tinted
I think he got hype when he saw me spin it
I'm up outta there, sideways to the next life
Vogues kinda smokin but Zeniths still tight
I'm at the side show, parlayin and playin
Music on hit, head straight swayin
To the sounds of the 415 and the Locster
Girlie on the corner on jock, so I approached her
Spoke real smooth and said, "Hey, what's happenin?"
She said, "Dubble-R, is that you rappin?"
I said, "Ah nah, baby, that ain't me
You listen to the sounds of the L-o-c
The same clique, the 415, we make paper
But back up, bitch, I can see you got the vapors"
A lazy, towed up, tore down hoe
She's lookin for some dick at the side show

You know what I'm sayin?
In Oakland, California, every Saturday night, brothers be ridin
Straight lace Zeniths, rag tops, buckets, high performance
We really don't be trippin, you know what I'm sayin?
But now it's like this

[ Richie Rich ]
Police came through, but now they're gone
In other words, the side show's on
Troy's in a Maxima straight up lit
Short's comin through in a Benz with a kit
Oakland's movin somethin, and that's real
Bruce from the Deuce comin through in a 'Ville
This is a side show, boy, we don't fake it
Police come through on a fluke and try to break it
Up like that with a riot hat
You're gonna need more than a billy club and a gat
To stop the side show, officer, just think
Maybe you should come and hit the spot with a tank
Cause the brothers from the O are gonna keep on ridin
Yo can hit a tight one, straight sidin
See, we ain't really trippin off jail or the tickets
A brother wants to post, make mail and kick it
Now listen, this is the code to the show
For the people out there who just don't know
If your shit is hella clean, then bring it
If it's high performance, then swing it
If it's a motorcycle, you better serve it
And if you get a ticket, you better deserve it
As long as you can say, "Man, I let em know"
Then peace, you did it at the side show

It's a everyday thing
Every Saturday night brothers be tearin up cars
Brothers be comin through swingin em
I don't know what's goin on, I'm juiced
I'm in the Town, I strikes through
I see bitches, corner to corner, block to block
You know, basically it's just (funky)

[ Richie Rich ]
Corner to corner, block to block
Flock Zeuses and EV's that knock
Gold-diggin bitches in the City of O
Lookin for a nigga with a cash flow
That's the type of shit that gets em off
Material shit, at the side show, boss
Brothers get started, and man, don't quit
Kiki's on the engine about to tear up shit
It's about 2 o'clock and the show's still goin
Bitches all at the gas station hoein
A nigga like me never ever spends cash on hoes
Nah, I need a new set of vogues
Candy paint will make a bitch peep
But she'll never get a muthafuckin dime out of me
Peace to everybody in the O that I know
Dubble-R get with you at the side show

Believe that
Cause it's real

This one goes out to my DJ Daryl-Ski
My homeboy L-o-c
And of course the Jigga, the Jed

415 - Snitches & Bitches

[ JED ]
Nigga what's up
What?
What's yo muthafuckin problem?
- Better than sayin jack
They let me go
Yo muthafucka, I don't wanna hear that weak shit
- Nigga what?
Fuck that, I don't wanna hear that weak shit,
you old rat-infested goverment informant cheese-eatin ass son of a bitch!
You better have your vest on cause you 'bout to come up short
( *shots* )

[ VERSE 1: Richie Rich ]
Caught a brother one day gettin out of a cop car
I know there's more to come, but the few that have so far
Talked to police about more than a court date
They're victims of a certain situation I'll illustrate
Day-to-day pigeons poppin all that junk
About the dollars they makin, a half a ki in the trunk
Mobile phone in his lap and ten cars in the shop
Sellin more than coke and side orders of hop
But there's a catch to that, the boy wasn't prepared
He caught a case on a humbug, now he's scared
No more hangin with the fellas drinkin gin and juice
He's in a situation now where he can't be loose
Everybody wears jailies and sleeps on bunks
And it's easy to tell the men from the punks
So the ones who rhyme but run they mouths like bitches
Wants to hit the bullpen, they turn snitches

[ JED ]
That's why I don't fuck with these old soft ass niggas,
out here runnin round here like they 187 artists.
Killers don't talk!
And these hoes supposed to be high roller ass niggas?
Ain't that a bitch!
Everytime I look around instead of stickin to the rules of the game,
they let circus asses makin decisions for themselves.
[ Richie Rich ]
Yeah, it's hard times, Young JED,
but it goes a little somethin like this:

[ VERSE 2: Richie Rich ]
The game is hard as wood, the macks don't splinter
But yet and still trick-ass niggas wanna enter
And with ballot in hand they rush to vote
To elect themselves into this game of dope
But yo bro, the situation is real
Don't slip in this game on a banana peel
There's a lot of brothers runnin around pluckin collars
Stuck up due to the fact they got dollars
Most of em punks gettin marked by young bitches
Put in the county, and the punks turn snitches
Given a alias, now he's set free
Or offered his job to be an f-e-d
I don't understand how a brother could turn
His cheek on another, homie, when will ya learn?
The talkin to cops makes it ten times worse
But they keep on talkin, verse after verse
Why do brothers wanna hop in this game?
Runnin around, they don't know the main frame
And when they're caught, they get to talkin like Polly
But they don't want a cracker, just bumpin em, snitchin
You know what I mean?
Now it's the high rollers and not the fiends
Take off the Rolex and park all the cars
You just a punk, yeah, you know who you are
Why did you get in the game if you wasn't equipped?
So what you're havin money and your car is whipped?
Keep talkin to police, then you're gonna get ???
Cause you'se a punk in a city of players, you'se a stupid muthafucka

[ JED ]
Double R..
What's up with these old broke, bus ticket-type ass bitches out here, huh?
Always tryin to get with a nigga with some mail..
They need to get a muthafuckin j-o-b..
Quit blowin up these niggas' beepers,
old stankin ass muthafuckin bitches..
Here's somethin I wanna tell all you hoes:
Fuck you!

[ VERSE 3: Richie Rich ]
Man, these hoes in the Town ain't shit
Can't fuck with a nigga unless he's rich
Sportin gold ones, man, tryin to make that mail
Hoe mopin and hopin that you would treat her to nails
Hoe, I can't treat, nah, nah, it's '89
Back in '87 when I was stuck to the grind
Money flowin like a river but hoe, I'm not trickin
My Zapco's hittin so hard, the light's clippin
Girls on the bus stop, all of them coppin a plea
To get with the man who slings d
Whether ridin a 'Stang or a rag top Beamer
The h-o's want to get with who's cleaner
So boys from the O, all of those who make riches
What do we do? Dog bitches
Knockin and sockin is a everyday thing
The turfs and the side show is where the boys hang
Hoe on jock for a brother with a fade
Some zeniths, some vogues and the boy's got it made
As she makes the block with a baby in a stroller
Her only destination: to find a high roller
But hoe get real, run and go get a job
Cause if I ever come to snatch ya, I be ridin a mob

( *horn honked* )
[ woman ]
Who is that?
[ Richie Rich ]
It's me, come on..
[ woman ]
Ah-ah, I didn't recognize you in that shit..
Where your Mustang?
[ Richie Rich ]
Ain't that about a bitch?
These hoes out here think niggas gon' taxi em around on gold ones?
Nah-nah, it's 1990, y'all hoes better ??? to these muthafuckin old schools
Bitch, jump in the bucket..
[ woman ]
The door don't open..
[ JED ]
Double R, fuck that hoe!
Tell her make like the muthafuckin Duke boys and crawl through the muthafuckin window

(Snitches) (snitches) [fades]
(Bitches) (bitches) [fades]

415 - Tic Tac (Nic Nac)

[ D-Loc ]
Rich, what's up with these bitches coppin these attitudes, man?
[ Richie Rich ]
Man, I don't know, I had one of these stupid hoes the other night, man
[ D-Loc ]
Shoulda slapped that bitch
[ Richie Rich ]
Talkin shit
I'ma talkin about real shit
Cause I got up out the cock and went to handle some business
[ D-Loc ]
That's what you 'posed to do
[ Richie Rich ]
Well, I didn't really handle no business though
I went and fucked with another bitch
[ D-Loc ]
Fuck that bitch, you ain't got to be suckin up to no stupid-ass hoe
[ Richie Rich ]
The hoe breath was stankin and everything
I offered the hoe a Tic Tac
Matter of fact, the hoe name was Nic Nac...

[ Richie Rich ]
You're just mad cause I left the room
And since I didn't come back you're actin a fool
Bitch, I had a knot, so I rushed up out the cock
What you thought was a knock was a hoe on jock
So I skipped and you don't know why
Silly muthafucka, the cock was dry
I kept pumpin and poundin, and all I saw
Was 10 more minutes of this and my dick would be straight raw
Nic Nac, your breath needs a Tic Tac
Fuckin with the Dubble-R you needs to kick back
I made the "415" and "Sniches & Biches"
And I be damned if a hoe will milk me for riches
Just straight up dick is your option to lick
Fuck ridin on the gold ones and material shit
It's like this, baby girl, you better survive
And quit talkin shit about the 415
So take that, Miss Nic Nac
You ain't held 415 back