1-800 (Straight from the Pen)

[ Ant banks ] (*burp*) Aw shit One of them fake-ass answer machines again 1-800-fake-ass-answer-machine (*dial tone*) [ Verse 1: spice 1 ] Mi-ni-mi pickin up da phone to hear da ring-a-ding-ling-a Mi hope ya not a cop, cause mi be slingin dem things-a Da niggas up on mi block, dey got much love for da game-a Jah man, just put your hands up if you slingin da caine-a Mi got to get mi propers, if it snow, shine or rain-a Mi pockets got di bumps cause mi so sick in da game-a Gafflin muthafuckas, sellin em rocks on da streets-a Ya want your money back, ya got to meet millimeter Mi maxin up on the block with dis nigga from the fac-a Mi gots mi cellular phone, in the bushes was mi gat-a Ya can't fuck with mi posse cause mi posse be strapped Ya want your ganja, xtra large'll you a fat 20 sack-a The 187, the faculty is back up in the house-a So roll up da canibus and put it up in your mouth-a Geah man [ Ant banks ] Ha-ha Yeah, you tight with all that gangsta shit, partner, right? But I heard you ain't the nigga you claim to be, right? You one of them studio gangsta muthafuckas So what's up with that, nigga? [ Verse 2: spice 1 ] Giggagiggada-gangsta, giggaggida-gangsta S-p-i-c-e is a real one, and not a pranksta Mi like to bust-bang, shootin em up, mi glocks hang Shootin out da window of mi drop-top mustang Aim for da chest while ant banks hold di clip Mi buckin em down, mi buckin em down cause for mi kilo mi killa Roll up a 20 sack, call mi da gangsta mack Look down da street and you see me, nigga, slingin crack The dopeman set up shop on mi block So call 187 line and order your rock-a Geah man [ Caller ] Ah yeah This - ah Liquor store willie - ah I wanna - I want some for 10 dollars Can you do somethin for me for 10? [ Spice 1 ] Mi nigga ant banks, come down with di funky breakdown (*inhaling, coughing*) Damn man This ganja gets you fucked up, man Geah Mi need lick up another 20 sack Geah man [ Verse 3: spice 1 ] Mi kickin da rasta shit, but mi not shabba ranks-a Mi spice 1, di muthafuckin gangsta Mi smokin da dank and it just might make mi kill ya If you comin at me talkin about sinsemilia Mi nigga g-nut put together endonesia Mi call it gaja, give me some fire-a Can't lit di ashes, hits me in mi eye-a Before mi lead bust got to get mi headrush Even though endonesia make me nervous Mi got mi nine and mi coolin up on di block Play mi for a fool, mi take his chest with mi glock Let dem niggas know not to be rushin mi knot So call 1-800 line and order your rock Geah man [ Caller ] Uh yeah Uh this - eh Suck-your-dick sally from the liquor store down the block Uh - I ain't got no money, but I'll suck your dick for a 10 piece [ Verse 4: spice 1 ] Before mi lay mi start, let mi say peace to mi nine Cause in mi neighborhood young niggas do di crime It's a ghetto thang to the east bay gangsta The city streets make a nigga want to shank ya Break yourself, now you fucked in the game The killin dance is a goddamn shame Money or murder, it's 187 proof-a So ant banks, bust da gin and da juice-a Mi signed with jive, now mi jive-ass nigga Break down di doja, roll it up a little bigger Mi watch da bitches cause da bitches a-gold digger So d the poet, won't you pass mi the liquor The dopeman set up shop on mi block So call 1-800 and order your rocks Geah man [ Ant banks ] Ah no, spice I don't want no rocks and shit, man I'm callin cause I heard you was a fake-ass studio gangster Ain't never had a gun Ain't never been to jail Ain't never shot a muthafucka And I'm just tired of this fake-ass shit you kickin all over this tape I'm tired of it, man, I'm tired of it I ain't buyin it Fuck that shit You fake, partner Fuck that Fuck that I'm out, man