Lyrics My Flag/Da Homies - The Game, Ty Dolla $ign, Skeme

My Flag/Da Homies

Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging who you beefing with?
I Know your baby never hurt nobody
But he got his ass smoked at that Mustard party
OG Blood, everybody know me when I came in with the little homies, Skeme!
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
That nigga duke just moved an ounce of yayo
And you know I keep gunners on the payroll
I even fucked with Mitchy Slick down in Daygo
Young General these niggas gotta spray for
You fuck around and catch 20 out this Range Ro'
Mane that beef shit is what a nigga made for
I open fire on her open mouth, case closed
Came in this bitch with Chuck Taylor’s screaming fuck haters
Bad bitch I’ma fuck later, tryna touch paper
In a 6 tre rag going brazy up the ave
What I’m drinking got me thinking, nigga maybe I should iron out my —
My Flag
My Flag
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging who you beefing with?
It’s anybody killa, that’s for anybody nigga
Mainline, waistside, westside nigga
Fuck peace, this for Crenshaw kings
Sockin' out niggas, tall as Yao Ming
Lowkey is on drop, give a fuck bout whatcho mama
When it’s on, it’s on, pop it like a bottle of patron
Then lay back with a bitch, man this is westside Jay 3−0 fifth
No gimmicks, God damn
I won’t stop being a blood to gangland
To my dope then kicked in locked up in a strange land
So when they be like, «Slick, why we ain’t see you on TV or nothin'?»
Shit, I’m still tryin' get off the gang injunction
Cause when it come to this been, I’m a monster to your leaf
You can do a whole damu documentary on just me
Call it «The Life of a Hundred Percent Real Whooper»
They did it for the grams, moves and the hush
Yeah Dat
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging who you beefing with?
I put the woop in the woop like my DLB’s
All I know is VNG’s and FTB’s
I ran fades back to back, that’s on STB
And if you claimin' you a blood, shit, you better know me
Big homie gave me a gun and said «It better be empty»
I was 11 years old with a motha’fuckin' 50
I got love for certain niggas, I’ve been doing this since knee high
And you ain’t a real blood if you didn’t bang at the beehive
Westside A-Hat, back in a straight jacket
Mister LA back, free my A track
Middle of July, I’m just tryin' bring a Maybach
Whole city riding, I ain’t even did a Dre track
Nigga this Athens, Miller gang mad
So east coast niggas be like «Cuh, you crackin'.»
Niggas ain’t goin' hard, as you should stop rappin'
I’ma be the street rider 'til the casket
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging who you beefing with?
The Game: RJ, what’s that shit we was doing the other day blood to that uh,
to that Mustard beat when the homie was beating on his chest and shit?
RJ: Oh you talkin' bout that uh, that uh
The homies in the Cutlass on E, niggas turnt up and we bout to hit the street
The Game: Ay the blood, ay take blood drink.
Give me that mutha’fuckin' weed
blood.
Ay duke, do that shit blood
The homies in the cut that’s on E, niggas turnt up and we bout to hit the street
The homie on probation, make him sit up in the back
Bout to hit the weed spot and get another sack
I said, the homies in the Cutlass on E, down for whatever cuz the homies roll
deep
Finger on the trigger, bandana round the Mac
Ride through the hood with a cup full of 'gnac
Ay nigga, lemme hit the weed
Where the fuck you get this bud from homie?
Ay, we about to run outta gas my nigga
The homies in the Cutlass on E, niggas turnt up and we bout to hit the street
The homie on probation, make him sit up in the back
Bout to hit the weed spot and get another sack
I said, the homies in the Cutlass on E, down for whatever cuz the homies roll
deep
Finger on the trigger, bandana round the Mac
Ride through the hood with a cup full of 'gnac
Im a real Compton Crip I hope you niggas get the message
Leave them 16's open, i’ll make them look bad on records
Chuck told me «I'm Good», now I’m headed down to the Cedars
After that, straight to the hood where them tanas holding them heaters
Look, sagging down the A-Line, war fuck it no play time
Hit my first tour I was still chuckin' up gang signs
Homies still cooking them cops hop out with K9
Lot of rappers’s callin' out names, nigga don’t say mine
The homies in the Cutlass on E
Some niggas bang the C some niggas bangin' the P
I’m really in the streets you other niggas is weak
On my mama and the hood, fuck around and Ya rest in peace
Especially when the homies in the Cutlass on E
The homies in the Cutlass on E, niggas turnt up and we bout to hit the street
The homie on probation, make him sit up in the back
Bout to hit the weed spot and get another sack
I said, the homies in the Cutlass on E, down for whatever cuz the homies roll
deep
Finger on the trigger, bandana round the Mac
Ride through the hood with a cup full of 'gnac
AD: Say nigga, that little nigga’s right there cuz
Person 2: Where nigga?
AD: Right across the street loc.
Man I told these niggas the last time they
keep pullin' em over here there gonna be problems cuz
Ay cuz, turn that fuckin' music down nigga
Tired of these niggas comin' over here and shit nigga
Turn the lights on, man turn the lights on!
Man pull up nigga, I said pull up cuh!
Person 2: Hold on, hold on, they look like One Time
Oh fuck cuh
Police in background: This is the Compton Police
AD: Man I knew I shouldn’t have rolled witchu niggas, I’m about to get life cuz
Person 1: Life?
Cuz they bout to put me on the row nigga
Police in background: Put your
Person 2: Aight!
Police in background: Shut it off asshole!
AD: It’s off cuh
Game: Hey look at blood an them get jacked by the ones
Person 4: Ha ha ha nigga don’t drop that soap nigga
Game: Bitch ass niggas in ya own hood nigga
Game: Nigga hit the switch nigga Get back to 05' on these niggas blood
Person 4: Woo
Person 2: I ain’t goin'
AD: Shh
Person 2: Fuck that nigga cuz I swear to god I ain’t goin'
AD: The fuck you mean you ain’t going?
Person 2: I ain’t going back to the pen cuz I can’t
AD: Nigga what the fuck we gon' do then?
Person 2: I don’t know about you niggas but I’m going out
AD: Fuck it then cuh, on Compton Crip!
Kick the door open!
AD: Fuck the police!