Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Crip 4 Life, artist - Bloods & Crips. Album song Bangin' on Wax 2…the Saga Continues, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 14.02.1994
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Dangerous
Song language: English
Crip 4 Life |
Well now I’m creepin' on your ass like a motherfuckin' frogman |
Six Pac’s the maniac from Franklin |
Uzi, A-K, Tec-9 millimeter |
Blastin' out the sunroof, drunk on Margarita |
Slobs ain’t shit, we’re gorgeous, ready for the raid |
Let 'em on pull up and watch me spray |
The F is for death and when I take that first |
They fuck with 1−0-3 |
You know ain’t no more Snoops left |
Shit, it’s an everyday thang and we gangbang |
Watts Franklin Square Crip no one can’t hang fool |
You get your motherfuckin' cap peeled |
Ain’t no joke and I’m smokin' all Slobs that stinks |
You thought ya — slow me down when you put me in the wheel chair |
But that’s OK cause I still claimin' Squares |
Three Crips and a bomb with the F-M is on |
Cixx Pac, Big Freeze and my nigga young Keystone |
G-Bone pass the Glock cause this Slob is set trippin' |
In my party while we crippin' |
You know this nigga slippin' |
Tell all the Cripalette to get into the ?? |
You gon' tear it get this motherfucker and trap Slobs in |
I can’t stand a nigga wearin' red shit, dead shit |
Cause then I gotta grab my gun and shoot him in the head and shit |
Because I’m livin' in a blue pearl, blue world |
It ain’t no bitch pussy better than a Crip girl |
Cause Slob niggas listen up, pay attention, I’m Scarface from Atlantic |
In case I didn’t mention, the crazy Lil' Hawk |
Just wanna make a bitch and got a gun to the Slob head |
Playin' Russian roulette, so bet |
Now check but do it for your set |
If you down with the Slob killer Cuz |
You say what the hell |
Off-brandies really can’t stand — me |
So I’m surroundin' about the Crips in Compton ?? |
this |
I kick kack I see cool in the cut |
I catch the Slob I’ma shoot his ass and his nuts |
Y’all niggas want problems come to my place |
And just remember the name: Atlantic’s Scarface |
Sort of like a dump truck |
But I don’t dump no dirt |
I’m dump the funk you shoot my trunk to put you Slobs to work |
You Snoop niggas just tryin' to dis to count you up in the street |
You couldn’t fade me, yo I’m crazy if you caught me in my sleeping then |
Daze me and amaze me that you’re Rip for tryin' to Crip the 44 in your face |
And have you pushin' up daisies |
When push comin' short I get psycho |
So when you fuckin' with the Locs you got to deal with the pistol |
The nick name: Freeze |
I represent: Watts |
And if I catch you slippin' best believe what you get got |
It’s some of this lead when I catch you on chin |
Over than a green as I bank once again |
And when you’re knees buckle pump |
Nigga you be seen it starts I’m layin' in the cut to fuck you up |
Like the red card |
Check this out, I’m Franklin Crip — ride |
You see me every — night |
If you got beef with me well nigga you know we can fire up |
I got my Locs who serve 'em Snoops with a fat sack |
I keep the pistol in my pocket cause I watch my own damn back |
When I ??? |
him |
It’s Freeze so you won’t be fade him |
The top to get the drop and where I stay |
It’s the stadium |
Nuthin' beats the feelin of your grill when I’m stealin' |
They don’t believe I’m crazy so I guess I got to kill you |
Push from the shoulder I get wicked |
I’m at the top of the crack |
Finna kick you with the Crip, yes |
Slob motherfuckers get stole on inner face |
Get with them one of this |
This Unabomber I caught you in the way |
Hey you should I told you 'bout Locs like me |
America’s sarcastic belegerent and skip if |
You got a bullet proof |
?? |
and I keep the plan see |
We raise up the ghetto |
A menace to society |
Cuz I gotta grab the strap, pull the trigger and blast |
This Snoop’s in my hood and I don’t give a fuckin' past |
So we got to get gaffle, scuffle and buck it up |
Slob slippin' on this side straight get shut the fuck up |
This is B-K to the motherfuckin' heart |
I’m from Atlantic Drive but got love for Kelly Park |
Cause we put in work and take this Slob out without a doubt |
Pop pop, biggety bang Cuz, duck, run and hide out |
Cover up, duck and run — but don’t slip |
Cause I’m precised when it come to empty clips |
Click — Tec 9 throw that ass up |
Down on their ground Slobs shut the fuck up |
He lost his life cause he was slippin', flossin' and frontin' |
The S on his chest like he was Super Slob or somethin' |
S-L-O-B K-I double L-A |
That Slob is dead so he can’t come to retaliate |
Fuck them Slob niggas let 'em come cack and trip |
I got a Tec 9 with 2−30 round clips |
On safe thinkin' Slob niggas hate me |
Cause I see dumpin' on his ass diggety daily |
Buck them Slob niggas |
Fuck them 'Brand niggas |
Fuck them Snoops niggas and them Die-'Ru niggas |
This is the motherfuckin' A-D double C |
B-Dog killer Cuz, you should’ve been a L-O-C |
Die-'Rus better shake the spot when I’m high |
Got a 17 shot |
With infra-blue in a Glock |
In a drop top deuce, gettin' loose on you Snoop fools |
But it ain’t no rules in this game givin' Slobs blue |
Killin' up shit for the Crips on the East Side |
Fuck a B-Side, cause C-Side is where the two C’s Ride |
The best, not forget about the Crip’s on the west |
Cause they steady puttin' motherfuckin' Slob to rest |
In their casket |
That shit is drastic, you slippin' hectic like Magic |
You vanish when they cap in your back bitch |
From this East Side gangsta call me Troll Loc |
Dead rags gettin' tear with the red throw |
Jaws brokes, Slobs shot out from the shoulders |
Punk I told you |
So step and I’m gonna fold you |
Bustin' caps on these Slobs at night |
Cause it’s East Side Kelly Park Crip 4 Life |
Now once again my friend it’s time to up the C in |
Certain motherfuckers |
Lives will end |
We on a mission — shit |
This is our task |
We takin' on flees, no bargains on ass this ain’t no joke |
This shit for real so don’t be hard |
You not the Slob but still |
It’s like a dream |
That’s come true |
And caught in the zone |
Boom, you’re through cause I’m serious |
I make your life sad |
And before you know your life’s been had |
You started this shit |
Made your own rule but you’re just too stupid |
Sucker you a Snoop, you in a zone |
In which we call Atlantic |
Cause when you see us comin' know |
Don’t panic |
I want you |
I want your whofe damn life |
And now I’m fill up to ends |
Even smoke your wife but not your kids |
Cause they’re too young to know |
But you fucked up Cuzz |
You gotta go |