| It starts like this
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| Gats hit harder than fists
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| Just cock and lick it
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| The aftermath’s wicked
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| Brass gets evicted
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| Another crew shot
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| Can’t put your strap back in your waist
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| Cause your barrel’s too hot
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| You did it kid
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| The more dead
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| The more weight on your head
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| Plus you ganked a suitcase
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| Full of black tar H
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| Baby boy, twenty keys
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| Dead Colombian Gs
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| Now you’re ballin full speed
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| One slip you bleed
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| You had your nigga with you
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| Hard rock street gorilla hitter
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| He took a hot one in the shoulder
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| Now he’s bendin over
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| Mad illegal
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| Nigga flipped harder than Buggsy Segal
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| He wet the room up with the rocket launchin
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| Desert eagle
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| Blood oozin through his black dickies
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| Ya nigga say he’s getting dizzy
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| The car seat’s fuckin getting sticky
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| He leaned back, his whole chest plate’s cracked
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| You thought they hit him once
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| He must of got double clapped
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| Your niggas dyin but he ain’t cryin
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| Soldier no doubt
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| He looked you dead in the eye
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| Said «get that money» checked out
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| Ballin bent him back in the black
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| S T S but where he’s going no stress
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| Your niggas dead, but you’re thinkin bout head
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| Fly hoes and condos
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| Once you flip the kilos
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| The fact your niggas out ain’t shit to ya
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| More profit for your greedy ass
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| No one to split the grip wit ya
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| Common sense will keep you safer than vests
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| Ambulance, cots, cause real niggas give head shots
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| LA streets will make your guts leak
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| Player no doubt
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| Young killers live for drug wars and shoot outs
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| You flipped your chip
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| Motorola, called your hooker
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| Said you had a little foul up
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| Told the ho to wet some towels up
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| She didn’t even talk
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| Clicked the phone off
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| Might a new some weak niggas
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| But this bitch ain’t soft
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| Make your next call
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| Straight to your chicano connect
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| Said they would flip the boy for girl
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| Up the weight, give you Peruvian flake
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| You had to dump the body
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| Burned it beyond recognition
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| Back back in commission
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| Scooped your hooker, cleaned your seats off
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| Squeezed off
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| Two in her head
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| Now the fuckin bitch is dead
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| You’re all alone just how you liked it
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| Straight laced hustler from hell
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| Street life you spiked it
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| It’s time to hook up with the mexicanos
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| Layin in the Dooly parking lot of a McDonalds
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| Hit the corner they was there
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| You’re prepared
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| Circled the block, screwed your silencer on
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| Rock the esse they had
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| Kickin back to get ya
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| Crept on the dropped truck
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| Double crossin ducks got bucked
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| Check the back of the cab
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| Suckas had the fuckin math
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| Ten more keys of uncut pure cash (Yes!)
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| Now your weighin thirty full keys
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| Of girl and the pony
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| Jumped for your lack
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| Hit the yack threw your head back
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| The big time is what you wanted
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| And now you got it
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| The devil put the strap in your palm
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| And you shot it
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| It’s going down now
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| On forever
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| Square life is never
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| Buck wildin is your life stylin
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| Mashed out
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| Hit a motel room
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| Crashed out
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| Called up a ho to get your dick sucked though
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| Bad bitch phat backs green contacts
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| Real hair, kept her feet all night in the air
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| Kind of square
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| Said she only worked the streets a week
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| Said her boyfriend kicked her out
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| And she needed to eat
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| She cuddled to you like a baby
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| Keep the girl mabey
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| The pussy was tighter than fuck drove you crazy
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| She kissed you on your chest and legs
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| Asked you to fuck her in the ass
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| Then she started to beg
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| It kind of got you open, no doubt
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| When baby doll fell asleep, with your dick in her mouth
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| Now you’re layin there, lookin at the motel door
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| Hand on your strap, some beautiful whore
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| You fuckin relaxed, fell a fuckin sleep bad move
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| Big game take little game, show and prove
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| Baby jumped up, went for the strap
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| Dumped off
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| Three shots in your face
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| Grabbed the sutcase
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| Don’t forget, grab the blow then jet
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| Before that ho hit the door she sipped a glass of Moet
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| Street life sabatoge
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| Niggas wanna live large
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| Demon ho out for cheddar
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| Capped you with your own Berreta |