|
Fuck it, yo, who the best MC on the west? |
|
By far it's me and in my car is a continental tea |
|
And my broad in that continental suite |
|
With the armadillo rollin' up dutches like that motherfuckers |
|
Beef with the kid, click clack, motherfuckers |
|
Let them bullets burn your six pack, motherfuckers |
|
Get jacked, motherfucker, when you come to Compton |
|
Get a mack, motherfucker, when you come to Compton |
|
I walk through Times Square holdin' my Johnson |
|
A cross style Jada make a run threw Yonkers |
|
I got D-blocks like the locks and these glocks like to pop |
|
And nigga I like your watch, so roll over, you can die with the jury |
|
First nigga, take the stand to testify he gonna die with the jury |
|
And I might kidnap the judge or send a team |
|
To lean on the prosecutors so the DA budge |
|
I got niggas that'll ride for a grand |
|
So handover my rock like Earl Manson |
|
You can die where you stand |
|
You got his back you can die with your man |
|
I'll let you jog for about 30 seconds then you gunned down |
|
You know this GL shit we got G's on the line |
|
Or G's on the squad, all week on the grind |
|
And if you doubt that step up, 'cuz we ain't hard to find |
|
Street kings in our prime you want us then come and try us |
|
You know this GL shit we got G's on the line |
|
Or G's on the squad all week on the grind |
|
And if you doubt that step up, 'cuz we ain't hard to find |
|
Street kings in our prime, you want us then come and try us |
|
I'm a take it to the next, take it to a motherfuckin' neck |
|
Pull up on a nigga holdin' triggers and techs |
|
We droppin' square beads, you easy to read |
|
This is the end of the road for whole ass MC's |
|
Smoke grass by the pound, glock holds 17 rounds |
|
And the flow'll knock any nigga down |
|
Rap you like a burrito come threw and kill you and your people |
|
Said them that I shitted on you nigga like I was a flock of seagulls |
|
Infrared beam like a traffic jam at night |
|
Handle any man in sight with his hands upon a mic |
|
Wanna light, I got the torch, California up north |
|
For any nigga puttin' flamed on a Porches and never drive on |
|
Bitch, you're gonna die on |
|
San Quinton for and five catch a live one |
|
Bust shots at the clouds, so we can shine some |
|
Get up off your ass and nigga and grind some |
|
You know this GL shit, we got G's on the line |
|
Or G's on the squad all week on the grind |
|
And if you doubt that step up, 'cuz we ain't hard to find |
|
Street kings in our prime you want us then come and try us |
|
You know this GL shit we got G's on the line |
|
Or G's on the squad, all week on the grind |
|
And if you doubt that step up, 'cuz we ain't hard to find |
|
Street kings in our prime we're touching the streets grinds |
|
Flash fuckers on the tip of the gat |
|
You can put on flat but I'll kill that, I'll open you up like a mat |
|
Even if you heard at I squirted and murdered a man |
|
And these new school nigga talk like we heard of them plans |
|
Seventy-two times 36 millimeters in your mini van |
|
Gettin' off on you nigga and your mini-mans |
|
Only thing runnin' is blood nigga so we gettin' grand |
|
So we will bust your head, nigga, straight through your hand |
|
Or get off in yo ass nigga like Jackie Chan |
|
And when it's all said and done it's a one will stand |
|
Gunnin' this motorbike, feelin' this power man |
|
A 185 miles per hour, man, I stay co-relatin' with the Taliban |
|
I show up, show up, show up, show up |
|
Niggaz talk about money, they forgot the struggle |
|
Playas paint a perfect picture, they forgot the hustle |
|
Pieces of a puzzle, guzzlin' pints, watchin' the moonlight |
|
Turn to sunlight, street more gun fights, penitentiary kites |
|
Seen a man turn to mice than mice turn to man |
|
See my nigga take the stand turn my other mans hand |
|
Got me nauseous in my abdomen, got me servin' grams again |
|
Grams rapped in rubber bands, 22's on them rubbers bands |
|
Slow rollin, 'dro blowin', I'm gettin' rich you see my fro growin' |
|
Ho's knowin' I pimp them to the fullest, respect a gangsta |
|
You can shoot but I eat bullets, I shit missiles |
|
And my eyeballs look like crystals, my shits official |
|
It's more humaro Merofrista |
|
Yo, yo, it's Luke and everything I sit on fat |
|
Niggaz be like oh shit, how a nigga shit on that? |
|
You wanna see me shit on and grit on tracks |
|
Glock with the red paint, puttin' it on hat |
|
Talk about the real thing not the 760 |
|
The reason that they took the fair team to get me |
|
You don't want it with my dogs, you got teeni guys |
|
I mean itsy bitsy little bitty weeni guys |
|
I done seen them guys bought as big as my gats |
|
And they ain't even got enough strength to squeeze on that |
|
You want real hard core shit I be's on that |
|
Cop the XLT you put threes on that, put cheese on hats |
|
When luchi seeks squeeze on gats we even leave these on flat |
|
G's messin' low they got g's on that and have |
|
How your momma outside screamin' "Please don't clap" |
|
You know this GL shit we got G's on the line |
|
Or G's on the squad, all week on the grind |
|
And if you doubt that step up, 'cuz we ain't hard to find |
|
Street kings in our prime we're touching the streets grinds |
|
You know this GL shit we got G's on the line |
|
Or G's on the squad, all week on the grind |
|
And if you doubt that step up, 'cuz we ain't hard to find |
|
Street kings in our prime you want us then come and try us |
|
You know this GL shit we got G's on the line |
|
Or G's on the squad, all week on the grind |
|
And if you doubt that step up, 'cuz we ain't hard to find |
|
Street kings in our prime we're touching the streets grinds |
|
You know this GL shit we got G's on the line |
|
Or G's on the squad, all week on the grind |
|
And if you doubt that step up, 'cuz we ain't hard to find |
|
Street kings in our prime you want us then come and try us |
