Lyrics Bitch Boy - Spider Loc

Bitch Boy

This bitch boy can not see me
Listen to the way I rhyme
On the streets I got that easy
This West Coast is mine
I got a hundred young niggaz wit me hollerin' 2 c’s
Wack and Pooh rider, them my niggaz from 2 p’s
I smashed in the 90's and I run into 2 g’s
You ain’t a gangbanger so you run in wit 2 tees
You hurricane stompin' with the flame bandana
In Compton they say you used to glaze Santana
You gave that up, and really start trippin'
And yo Doja could you tell me, what made ya start strippin'?
You did change your heart, and now it’s Piru
On DVD talkin like the downest Damu
But Doja, you know just as well as I do
The truth is the story that you tell is not true
Doja be in a gang for the last few years
And tried to go from tongue rings to them tattooed tears
Stop the frontin' You ain’t wit the funken at all
You really ain’t nuttin' more than dunkin' a ball
Rev Riders Red Rags
Everybody knowin' you a nobody that sound like everybody flowin
You ain’t got no background you talk about T.V.
If it ain’t about Tupac, It’s all about Easy
If it ain’t about Easy, It’s all about Fif and the Unit
I wonder who’s listenin' to it
Jumped on Dre’s dick and do nuttin to Yucmouth
Memphis Bleek or Joe Budden
I’ve come to the conclusion you got to be special or retarded
How the Fuck’d you get me started
But a war with the Loc, you don’t wanna try that
You steady goin' broke and gettin' butterfly tats
When Fosen died you lost ya G side
And I just spoke with G Malone and G Ride
And they said no bullshit, it’s on fo' real
You get popped, if you try to pop up on Brazil
Oh I’m from, that’s just how the politics go
I got a boss from New York that knows how to get doe
I’m a Loc from L.A. that knows how to kick flow
In big blue diamonds look how my shit glow
You don’t know, where I’m from
You don’t know, where you from
You can catch me in the Yukon hittin' on fire
Or pushin' up century, gettin' head from Mya
And I don’t really wanna let the Tec speak
So Bitch Boy, check your technique
And while your at that check the streets good
The Eastside Riders don’t fuck with Eastwood
You just a bad look for the Dymu’s
Tight drawers saggin', hatin' ya high school
G-Unit!
On the plaque of the lowrider
Da rats in the hood holla «Go Spidah!»
I’m from the most gang and I flow tighter
Take back the Bentley’s, go get a ghost rider
Jacion callin' for peace
he said it his self, you should call the police
If you ever see the G-Unit Crips, I’ma EC banger with G-Unit chips
I can tell that you hate it alot
But I’ma stay on top, if ya hate it or not