| Take time to listen, I’ll explain how it goes
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| Living high gangster life, I’m the one now knows
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| And rolls with cholos, bald-headed fools
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| SCLA if you slip you lose
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| Don’t slip like a trick, puto pack your shit
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| Incase any bitch enemigas wanna trip
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| If they snap, fuck that, gotta bust a cap
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| It’s been like this, it’s gotta stay like that
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| We got gang bang skill, no one to kill
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| Don’t act like a punk bitch, gotta stay real
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| Make em feel our heat, then their blood ske
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| Mi clicka malitos, ese 2−1 Street
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| We defeat who were compete in this catagory
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| Of taking motherfuckers out for territory
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| South Central is all I see
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| Represent the Sur, simon 213
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| Look through my eyes, what do I see
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| Los Angeles the big SC
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| You wanna try, so come and trip
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| Then you can see how life ain’t shit
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| Living high life, with a gangster twist
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| Enemies on my mind, so I made a list
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| The putos we gotta get that ain’t about shit
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| No jammers ese, just straps that spit
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| So hit a lick, we begin, that’s the way it’s been
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| At least in the mind of this Mexican
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| Who can and will make your caps peel
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| As long as this motherfucker could carry his steel
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| Packing, strapping, full auto clips
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| For whoever slips, we’ll get up in their mix
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| They’re wise, despise they run like bitches
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| Petho y petho, they’re punk ass snitches
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| See we handle who we must not the ones who trust
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| Always creeping in the hood with plans to bust
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| And dust me, a few so they could know who
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| Can do, premeditated murder fool
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| Gang bang for my hood
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| Put in work to do some good
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| Gente ask me why, faci cuz I could
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| On the block it don’t stop, it never will
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| All I see pinche locos on the kill, staying real
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| Yeah, same old shit just different day
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| Plotting on the next puto’s head has gotta lay
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| Don’t regret to check, ese fuck respect
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| All I know my pinche homies are down for their shit
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| Whenever, whatever, more motherfuckers the better
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| Making all you pinche culos buying love and memory sweaters
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| Yeah might catch the blues fucking with some trues
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| I keep it on the Brownside represent the Sur
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| Yeah strap on hip, never fucking slip
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| One pinche bandiero will dip if you trip
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| Shit, tu saves, son otoclaves
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| On os de medramos en las pinche calles
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| The Brownside, to you is what we bring
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| Mexican bandiero, this is where I come in
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| See it’s been a firme ride to this point here
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| But the shit I say gotta sound real clear
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| This here’s for my homies who couldn’t see this day
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| Risky, Woody, Looney, and Pazascans I say
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| Respect when it’s due for the ones who stay true
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| Cuz sooner or later we’ll be there with them too
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| And for my homies upstate, ese I feel your hate
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| Cuz you just can’t wait for your fucking release date
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| Simon something I feel, not in it for the thrill
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| Me and mi pinche ranfla always gotta keep it real
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| So dos-uno-tres settle for nothing less
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| All I know is you know, ese fuck the rest
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| That’s right you heard it, they give you life you serve it
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| Talk away in court for a fucking guilty verdict
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| Hell yeah, this here for the homies that ain’t with us no more
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| For the ones locked up, and all the pinche bandieros on the street
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| Yeah, look through my eyes what do I see
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| Yeah, look through my eyes what do I see
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| Haha |