Put It in the Air - Remastered

Who's hot? Who's not?

I been the hottest thing on the West ever since the death of 2Pac

Kept my crack in clear capsules with blue tops

And it's still nothin' for me to get you shot

You see 'em? Yup, the same old pimp

Sky Balla, and ain't nothin' changed but my limp

Natural born player, mine not a lame or a simp

The world is mine, you see my name on a blimp

Stay Dolce Gabbana'd down, play the Bahamas now

You's a duck, I'm a piranha, clown

I keep thick bread in the pockets of my sweats

While I'm drivin', I get head in the cockpit of my 'Vette

And my game is sharp as a mosquito's needle

As far as the charts, Young S.B. is the Beatles

Purple haze smoke in the air blow in the wind

The rims right there, when I stop, they still go and they spin

I can teach you how to stunt, boy, and pop that trunk, boy

Them city slickers ain't never been punks, boy

So fix your ice grill, and your mean mug

Unless you wanna feel a few M-16 slugs

Nigga, you got a blunt, then put it in the air

Nigga, you got a gun, then put it in the air

Nigga, you from a gang, then put it in the air

Play with Killa Cali if you want, motherfuckers

Nigga, you got a blunt, then put it in the air

Nigga, you got a gun, then put it in the air

Nigga, you from a gang, then put it in the air

Play with Killa Cali if you want, motherfuckers

I ain't got no time for fake ones, so don't think for a second

I won't pull this .45 and put your stomach where your neck is

If I tell you kiss the sky, better respect it

Or get your ass hog-tied, butt-ass naked

I'm doin' this for Eazy, like it or not

I wouldn't even be rappin' if Eric Wright wouldn't drop

I love this shit, I'm workin', I'm good

I ain't on the corner, (Motherfuckers) but I'm still in the hood

I'm poised to go platinum, that's what the magazines sayin'

Fuck The Source, I got my own magazines, man

I call her Shirley, she got a thirty-two round clip

And she love hangin' out with you girlies

I'm like them Philly niggas that come through early

Through your front door without knockin' like Mr. Furley

It's just me, you, and the semi, three's company

You want the crown, you'll be UGK like Bun B

Nigga, you got a blunt, then put it in the air

Nigga, you got a gun, then put it in the air

Nigga, you from a gang, then put it in the air

Play with Killa Cali if you want, motherfuckers

Nigga, you got a blunt, then put it in the air

Nigga, you got a gun, then put it in the air

Nigga, you from a gang, then put it in the air

Play with Killa Cali if you want, motherfuckers

I rock jewels, cop tools, I will not lose

A million miles a minute is how my block moves

I stay in the fast lane, never fakin', cheddar chasin'

I'm in the game for the cash, mayne

And bitches play this in they Benzes, Jeeps, and G.O.'s

They say I'm arrogant and got a big ego

But they still love to swallow me up

In every hotel suite, they wanna follow me up

But I ain't gon' put my dick in for free

Nah, ma, you want the kid, then you gotta pay this pimpin' a fee

And ain't no champagne left, so let's toast 'gnac

Sky Balla and Game 'bout to bring the West Coast back

I'm on that get-dough shit, that Frank War- pimpin'-that-ho shit

And Cali-smokin'-that-dro shit

I still push fishscale and China white

A little nigga with a big gun and ain't tryna fight

Nigga, you got a blunt, then put it in the air

Nigga, you got a gun, then put it in the air

Nigga, you from a gang, then put it in the air

Play with Killa Cali if you want, motherfuckers

Nigga, you got a blunt, then put it in the air

Nigga, you got a gun, then put it in the air

Nigga, you from a gang, then put it in the air

Play with Killa Cali if you want, motherfuckers