| Thirty-one double-O-seven was the code I got hit wit'
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| I guess it’s time to go and do that Looie shit
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| Stopped at the spot and then hit the sto'
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| Because the gin and ice got me perkin' in the studio
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| When I hit the spot tops drop Glocks cocked
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| I hope it ain’t no funk cause the Looies on the block
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| Hope you’re givin' up love, or givin' up dap
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| The homie from the Looies is quick to pull your cap
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| Thirty-one double-O-seven was the code I got hit wit'
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| I guess it’s time to go and do some more Looie shit
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| Gotta hit the store and get me a Vega
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| Cause you know when a Looie smoke, a Looie smoke major
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| We push in doors, snatch C-U drawers
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| Took over stores and mack punk trick whores
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| My Looies done paged and I’m smashin'
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| Blowin' big bomb in a fashion
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| We be doin' this shit with a passion
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| And your bitch blew me off for straight mackin'
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| Now what you gone do when I hit that C-U
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| Give up the money or get Big Bar after you
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| Ric' ain’t for play, the Glock is gone spit
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| And chop a nigga like a trick
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| Crestside nigga on the real-a, all about my scrilla
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| Dope rhymesayer out the town an- (and I’m a peel ya?)
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| So don’t test the thirty-one double-O-seven vet
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| Wreck the playa haters off they set
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| Back 'em up cause ain’t nathan but that C-side
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| And we ride so deep, playa hatas run and hide
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| It’s high performance when we slide
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| You might catch me in that fifty drive
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| Crestside nigga in this game it won’t stop
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| Back 'em up, cause niggas know we hiccup
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| Them fifty-caliber Eagles, dumpin' out that Regal
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| It’s Rico, you know, nathan nice from the North Pole
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| Backin' niggas down for real, that’s how I get that scrill
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| Damn, I left my mask at home
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| Should I straight face this fool or just leave 'em alone?
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| Nah, it ain’t like that
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| It’s the Looie Crew nigga and I’m out to get fat
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| Fat is what I’m talkin' bout, a hundred Gs or betta'
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| Witnesses, they’ll all get wet up
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| Uh! |
| Nobody left to tell
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| All you snitch ass niggas get sent straight to Hell
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| Uh!
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| Looie, Looie, Looie, Looie
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| Looie, Looie, Looie, Looie
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| I used to sell yayo on the streets of the three Cs
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| But now I slang game on cassettes and CDs
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| I rips and flips cats with stacks of raw raps
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| Attack them saps that steady flaps and jaw-jack
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| I’m all that, and I got Mac Mall’s back
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| Fumbled in ninety-two but now I got the ball back
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| And runnin' suckas over with that R-A-P
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| Cause I’m the M-V-P, and a G, from the V
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| They can’t see me cause I’m in too deep
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| Sellin' em half a million like my boy Jay Tee
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| And really representin' that Northern Cali, hoe
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| I’m from the Crest, north side of Vally-joe
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| Up from the O, down to San Jo'
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| Up to Sacto, up to Frisco
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| Everybody knows Mac Dre’s a factor
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| Takin' this rap thang to the next chapter
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| I rap to funky beats that rock ya
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| Made by Khayree, brotha of the Rocker
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| I sock ya with these blows of game
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| That’s potent like a joint of that doja mayne
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| Doja mayne, doja mayne
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| It’s the Looie Crew nigga, never fuck with caine
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| Looie Crew, Looie Crew, Looie Crew, Looie Crew
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| What you gonna do when come for you?
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| Looie Crew, Looie Crew, Looie Crew, Looie Crew
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| What you gonna do when come for you?
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| I ride by with my fists high in the sky
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| And bust U-ies, and only smoke with the Looies
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| I ride by with my fists high in the sky
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| And bust U-ies, and only smoke with the Looies |