(feat. Crooked I, Daz Dillinger) [Daz Dillinger] Yes, yes yall,yes yes yall, yes, yes, yes, yes,yall Yes yes yall, yes yes yall, yes, yes, yes, yes,yall We got some people on the microphone here tonight They coming to give you to you rough, rugged, and raw You know that westcoast feel, yea (All that shit) [Daz Dillinger] Watch out its creep to, what the fuck can he do Showing for showy death gun come with you Fuck a posse homeboy, I run with a gang Blasting niggaz for anything, looking sneaky, looking strange Me and my couples from the pass kick gas Smoke a pound of grass every doubt about cash Glocks, ski mask, we bo on a match Clush crash so don't even try to ask I'm rough, roughed, and raw, and what you see you just saw What happen when dat nigga daz, on the mic grab it I take control and move you body and soul One ho, I move the crowd with an flow [Chorus x2: Daz Dillinger] Can I get bucc, Can I get bucc To all my homies and my ridaz who don't give a fuck Who acting to tough, and acting to rough Come around here nigga, get bucc [Soopafly] You mother fuckers in action We blast niggaz for asking the ghetto fab satisfication Barrel directed to bone marrow, hit cha In traded to get cha, damage yo completed vanish that you cant mannish Its the gangsta and pimps with heated clips You cant hide during the day, we like Gladis Knight like plips Mashing these niggaz for chips If you wanna ride dip, like to fools in rip should Throw up your hood, its all good Nigga what, gangsta anemic stripe Super posting, with a thirty-eight heater with my hosting Blasting who ever stop from rocking coast to coasting I burn and roasting a nigga who figure that When you pull out a strap we aint right, where my gangstas at (Right Here) Show up to blow up your block Out for the cream like the crock I tell these niggaz don't stop [Chorus x2: Daz Dillinger and Soopafly] Can I get bucc, Can I get bucc To all my mother fucking ridaz who don't give a fuck Who acting to tough, and acting to rough Come around here nigga, get bucc [Crooked I] To all of my niggaz that couldn't crack britches Staking riches, dipping something ficous Tapping switches, macking and cracking bitches This rapping business is phony as hell I'm going to ride until they throw me an L Like all my homies in jail I'm gun cocking, con cock the shot the block, so I can clock a knot Hit the spot with my trunk knocking Drop tops is the what pops the pussies Bury more arms than octopuses Gages and blocks and bushes Ready to start the conflict You want chronic, I'm all for atomic, energy Literally, thinking of the bomb shit Mob wit me, don't mash alone A chaperone, hoes who love to blow on bones like a saxophone When niggaz think they Al Kapone It only takes three steps, draw, squeeze, shoot, you gone Who am I crooked i, who are they daz and soopafly On the rooper high, stay true to my click [Chorus x2: Daz Dillinger] Can I get bucc, Can I get bucc To all my mother fucking ridaz who don't give a fuck Who acting to tough, and acting to rough Come around here nigga, get bucc