Now it's on, flip me at '7-8 Coupe Reds, hydraulics, duece, representin the do and you can trip if ya wanna, but, boy, you be's a goner Leavin bloody footprints from Sacramento to Palmona I'm a dog when it come to this gangsta shit A young hog from the block and never shrank to fit Roll with the Hoovers and the E-C's, avalon watchin L-B's Compton, Track New Park, the S-P-C's Bakersfield, Fresno, Seven Trees Duece nine outlies N-S-G's My Bgz got to trippin when the homey got soaked when they heard about the shootout that *?I so?* called for Bo-Loc As I ride, ride til I die Best to hide, nigga, when I hit your block I bring death on the suckers when my Glock is cocked I got hops in my Coupe, a pocket full of loot and it don't matter who start to funk when you're ridin with the do We just handle that shit like the locs that we is Hit them niggas quick, fuck the bitches and the kids Split wigs, watch graves get digged Representin to the fullest, Guard Block Crib Niggas wanna trip, well eat hollow tips Never could you hang with my gang, no pain, no gain
Chorus:
Hoo-ride, mass slaughter, murder Madmen, deadliest lyrical server There is no higher, they gets no curver Get em up close range, empty fullies and get further *repeat*
Who got that gangsta, gangsta shit? It be the niggas who got the biggest nuts and the gat that packs the fullest clip Gotta have more chips than a grab bag full of Doritos Keep your bitch broken, make sure your pockets stay full of C-notes Hardcore gangsta, fillin out a 20 year old nut Gotta keep composure, puffin doja and it got me stuck I'm down your strip, hopin I can pull a lick Got an extra clip in case I have to zip a nigga's lip Oh yes, my Dayna's look quite lovely Pull up on your bitch's pit while you and your crew try to mug me Huffin and puffin like, daddy Gotcha ridin out eight-deep in your '96 Caddy You tried to fuck but could do nothin but make my dick hard You tried to dump so I had to creep and pull your whole card Ya best respect or get checked by the Smith & Wess Fuck a vest, hollows hit harder than a math test
Chorus
I never stop bringin pain, it's difficult for haters Never spit game, the same speakers are our greatest Make ya take your last breath, fuck it, where my payment? I'm blazin up doja, this soldier regulate your statement Some niggas is bangin, some niggas' just about the cash Some flatline snitches miss me, look up on ass I avoid the drama, tricks never to be toy with Get as high as you want, irrelevant who you fuck with Eight off, ran from the lead, cock the buck shit You're whole mouthpiece spillin discharge, to verify we hit hard Women do these timbos Mind style missions, puttin the mashdown on nymphos My son, labelled the Funky Nigga, plugs wit everybody that's sittin on dividends, we filin down fully pants Rapidly goin down, ain't comin back around Release rounds, just terrorize your townTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
