Tru – I'm The Funkiest lyrics

[Master P]
Grew up in the ghetto in Cali
Were sellin dope has one technically
Tanqueray twice a week
2 keep a nigga like me on the run G
Dodging the police side
And whatchin the moves that jackers be tryin
Mom would cry when I leave the house
She said she had a bad dream, a king g took her out
She say they caught me one in the chest
I said mom did I ever shoot back
Now im on the neighborhood alert
I pack a fuckin 9
like mom would pack her purse
For the suckers tryin to catch me slipin
And like short dogg say I aint tripin
But I look at life kinda strange
And all the old G's tell me all the time
P get out the dope game
Stick with your raps & go legit
And it wont be long till ya make your motherfuckin hit
Now that kinda shit kept me pumped
I hooked up with the Ski, and C, and T and now I'm the one
The one from the bay
It started in the rich
And moved to the O, to Frisco
Now they bumpin my sounds and sack
Pittsburg, Palianto, and every damn cadillac
From Cinncinati, Kentucky, to Seattle
They say my shit just movin like cattle
Movin like columbian cargo from Boston to Chicago the play me down
In Texas from the low rider, benzmen, to the drop top Lexus
Im pumpin in New Orleans, Down South, Alabama, to D.C.
All in one year I deliver funky sounds from San Diego, to Denver
Delaware were my