| 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 |