[Intro]

1999

Insomniac

It's the end of the world

The Ca-vi

Uh

I got Peeps Game, (P.G, hah)

I got Mr Short Khop

And my name is Mr. Kane

And we gone do this the West Coast way

But Peeps Game you first up to bat

Peep

[Verse 1: Peeps Game]

Some how this nigga thought them 8 x 10 inch drums

Gonna make me not wanna go home and, err, post double own?

But I stopped being stupid at 17

Started having reoccurring dreams of incredible cream

I check the scenery

Cause all I wanna chat about is greenery

How to get {rid of it?}

Get a dead right end of it

Players it's my game

How many other niggas got claim

And important if you feeling my frame

To wear them sport, ah

I'm tring to make that switch to millionare from ghetto rich

But I got these niggas who wanna see me fall up in my mix

Ain't nothing sacred

You break pumpers

Ya hate mongers, hah

A pile of shit is what I'm stuck up under

But I won't fold

I hooks it up, grabs hoes and roll

In a L-X-4-5-0, while you stroll

My game will make a baller feel broke indeed

And make M.C.s abandoned s.h.i.p's in reeds

[Chorus]

Life is sometimes so fucked up

Uh, well alright

In 1999

And you'll never know where you'll end up

Yeah

In 1999

[Verse 2: Short Chop]

I drink a fifth and blame the session

Fingertips stained with resin of the doja

Niggas caution

Haters beg your pardon

Probably find me in the cut at {he-ver bo-bon?}

With my squadron

Hate it cause he came up

Ran through and sold the game up

And tossed all these so called names up with contacts

To leave you with blacked eyed contracts, ha

You niggas ain't ready for this combat

The robbing, cheating

Or even take it to the mob

Creeping, squad, thieving

Come just try

But best to prepare when this young gun ride

Run duck hide

Want round, we can go some

Come round we can roll some

Still come heated by my lonesome

It's real there

Left you cowards done deal there

Nigga, it's raining bullets and i'm still there

[Chorus]

Life is sometimes so fucked up

Uh, huh

In 1999

And you'll never know where you'll end up

In 1999

[Verse 3: Kokane]

Uh

Who the hell claimed you niggas

Out of every spokesmen of these gangster hits

Fake rapping blood or crip

Now what

I'm still about my rotting socket

You niggas stay in the house

While O.G's pick cotton

Not to moan nigga cause I'm a crack the whip back

I'm gone do this till the D's fall off and the eagle hub caps

Battlecat laced me with some dope tracks

Now I got the whole entire industry upon my nut sack

I went to ghetto {jack'a'lane?}

To push rhymes like weight

Can't live without my weekly [?] (yeah, yeah)

{fire up?} my 600 it's to blow trees and don't care

You niggas pockets be like bad news bears

Uh yeah, I'm taking out all rookies

So forget Oreo's and get your Kokane cookies

Nigga, get your kokane cookies

I represent the west coast, now

[Chorus]

Life is sometimes so fucked up

That's real/wooh

In 1999

And you'll never know where you'll end up

(get yo' paper)

In 1999