| Catch the beat for the Ace Duece Trey
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| Big Freeze is in effect for 94 and I’mma spray
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| Tec-9 hollow point tips on your Slob-ass killin snoops
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| In the street with me and he won’t
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| Last a second, come to checkin' all you slobs with the quickness
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| Dumpin' with the Tec you close you’re eyes and try you wish this
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| This was a dream and maybe one day you’ll wake up
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| But you ran upon the wrong Franklin Crip and got bucked
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| Right back in your muthafuckin' place
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| Big Freeze got the nine in your muthafuckin' face
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| And just to let you know I ain’t no muthafuckin' ho
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| Hot feeling full of lead and leave your body on the floor
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| It’s BK Crippin' all the time when I ride Nationwide
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| East Side Franklin Crippin', so you Slobs better hide
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| And if you don’t when I see you I’ma kill you
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| You can bet your bottom dollar fool I’ll peel you
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| This ain’t no poser but I be bang Crabs to pieces
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| Wonderful one to his head and deceased him
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| Point blank range it was strange the way it happened
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| East Side Swans pulled up and started cappin'
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| Crabs been runnin' and duckin' and try to get the fuck away, but it’s too late
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| Cause I popped hI’m with the H.K. |
| pop
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| Miggety gun between the Crabs with me strap with me Nine
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| Buck buck buck buck buck E-Ricket always die
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| Me kick the rasta shit hI’m make me mad I get with him
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| Me comin' from South Central ??? |
| me say trick
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| Bickin it kickin it and stoppin it, pissin' and jackin' a punkin' the Crab dude
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| Me love to smokin' chronic, drink O.E. |
| and act a fool
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| Some Crab in me hood losin' life for some chip
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| Me happy to Glock and got and show 'em for no pity
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| Blood, me gangsta from me hood, me killin' never like a slut
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| Or me can do the ?? |
| because them snitch like a ??
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| I got the feelin' there’s anotha Slob killin' in my hood
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| Niggas gettin' suited and booted up to no good
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| Shootin' up everything and Tec-9 bail ringin'
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| Showin' the punk-ass snoops how we gangbangin'
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| Psycho assassin I laugh when I stick 'em
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| Then I bury hI’m alive cause the fool wasn’t Crippin'
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| I got a double barrel sawed-off, point it at the hostage
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| Had your mama ransom and still shock the bitch
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| You better ask somebody about Six Pacc
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| Original Gangsta well known to peel a cap
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| 3 o' clock in the morning the «F» Gang creepin'
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| To see if we can catch another Slob slippin
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| C-rag hangin' off the Gauge as I blast fool until you know this is Crip
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| And you don’t have to ask
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| Evil side never die, fool it’s no mistery
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| Crabs runnin' the ocean I’m from the C
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| Now as I tight’n up my flags, my bhakis sag low
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| Banged up for Inglewood, yeah 104
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| 'bout to pull a jack in my bucket, nigga Pumpkin
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| Saw the first rip, who slipped, put some' in his chest
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| Set trippin' I’mma bust on his ass quick
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| 210 pounds lettin' of 50 rounds
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| Gunnin 'em down for the homies that’s B.I.P
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| It’s called payback I stay strapped, I packs a Mac-1
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| Brazy like Rambo I’m lettin' of ammo with my 9, 16 shot
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| Fuck all these Crabs lies in the studio
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| Tryin' to act like they hard
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| But you done pushed me to my limit like a muthafuckin credit card
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| Wide up so fired up the motherfuckin' strap
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| Green eyes got something off his chest ready to be expressed
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| Fuck all ya’ll Crabs, ya’ll niggas ain’t shit
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| And you will never catch Green Eyez mackin' to a Crab bitch
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| Slob-ass niggas C’s up what that Crip like
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| Niggas don’t understand that I’m a C, a Crip 4 life
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| Slob-ass fools in my city nigga fear me
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| It’s the A to the D.C. rip fuck the B
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| Atlantic Drive Crippin' is where I’m from
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| If you can tell
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| Illiterate ass Slob niggas know that they can’t spell
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| Nigga this is Slob killa, I spell it out
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| For you S.L.O.B.K. |
| I double L.A. Crip nigga
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| South Side Atlantic Drive makin' Slob panic
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| Dippin' in a G
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| With that muthafuckin' automatic strap out the window, pop pop now it’s on
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| A bitch made Slob nigga caught two in their dome
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| On the Crens with they burgundy pants caught slippin'
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| While I’m dippin' to the other side set trippin'
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| Crippin' to the fullest, fuck Slob nigga this is Crip
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| I kill a Slob nigga and I smoke a Slob bitch
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| Now bick back and relax as I kick the facts about you
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| Muthafuckin' scary-ass Crabs that just be Bangin On Wax |
| True facts and not fiction
|
| And if you wanna buy ?? |
| gimme your money nigga steady dippin'
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| You motherfuckin' right that’s how the gangsta go and do it
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| Sin Joke come to stretch you to stretch you, but that Ricket blew it
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| Mark-ass Crabs droppin shit like a Sega
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| I called up G-Pops and told hI’m my nigga need the Desert Eagle
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| Blood I think some shit finna jump
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| So tell Dogg to bring the nine millimeter and the pistol grip pump
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| Yeah, that should handle this
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| A Bounty Hunter from Watts, so I’m forcin' niggas scandelous
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| And I’m down for whatever
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| I got the extra long clip hangin' out my motherfuckin' 'Retta
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| Gettin' ready for a C. K
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| Here comes some guy from that Ricket nigga with no further delay
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| Load up the guns cause now you fuckin' with a killa trigga cop
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| Bust some shots at you Slob-ass niggas talkin' shit
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| You’s a bitch and I’ll put that on my momma
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| If I catch you in these streets — I’ma leave your ass in trauma
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| This shock well and don’t bail on T.R.O. |
| double L
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| Cause dead rag gettin' toe tagged from hot shells
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| Ride throught my hood in that motherfuckin' red
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| I put my gun to your head and leave you dead enough said
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| Now as I hear this on line if you really gon' blast
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| I got a flea on my dick, for puttin' in it their dogs ass
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| «Damn Blood that Ricket nigga was wild»
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| I call myself a dog say fuck hI’m doggystyle uh uh
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| Smooth sellin' on a gay-ass snoop
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| The main bitch at my house straight smokin' a loop
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| K.P. |
| to the motherfuckin' H
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| Fuck all Slob this the muthafuckin' K
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| Gimme the strap goddamn so I can bust on this Crab
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| That bitch AWOL
|
| Tryin' to bang with a? |
| shank?
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| Well, we’ll rush you niggas on the count of 4
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| And all that Crab shit what is you bangin' for
|
| Fuck talkin' with you niggas, fuck eatin with you niggas
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| Fuck rappin' with you niggas I don’t believe you niggas
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| It don’t stop, I slip in my clip and set trip
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| It’s the Dogg and Hawksta, Weirdos and Mafias
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| Mafia/Weirdos it really don’t matter
|
| I grab my nine and make it rat-a-tat-tatter
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| Now we be rollin' in my muthafuckin' G- ride
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| It’s me Lil' Hawk and the Dogg showin' these Crabs what that «B» like
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| Weirdo gangsta’s and the 10 and tha 4
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| Fuck all Crabs in the studio
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| Biiatch
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| Tricks in this basket
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| Busta-ass Crab-ass niggas |