| Yea you know how it be
|
| All my thugs gon' thuggin' the streets
|
| But let the Choir Sing
|
| (Choir Humming)
|
| Yea you know how it be
|
| All 'em thugs gon' thuggin' the streets
|
| But let the Choir Sing
|
| (Choir Humming)
|
| Now put your hoods on
|
| Put your gloves on, nigga!
|
| Ayo I gotta break these streets shit down
|
| I’m walkin' through Town
|
| I’m holdin' my very big 3-pound
|
| Costumers is floodin' the kid
|
| And it’s the first of the month
|
| So many hands I dropped my shit
|
| Pickin' my rocks up
|
| I told the Fiends back off
|
| And now I ain’t servin' none of ya’ll
|
| Fresh Black Truck hopped in it
|
| Tinted, Rims glissin' got a Bitch in it
|
| Race to the finish
|
| Nashawn straight Menace
|
| Guineas — in my left hand
|
| While I’m drivin' drunk which on you want
|
| Hand-gun, Machine or the Pump?
|
| I’ll murder you, have everybody in your crew
|
| In Black-suit, your gril in Black vial lookin' Gorgeous
|
| I’mma Gangsta!
|
| Shanksta, body you fuckin' her
|
| I ain’t lovin' her, I’m guttin' her
|
| And you know how it be
|
| When you comin' from and livin' in the P’s
|
| Yea you know how it be
|
| All my thugs gon' thuggin' the streets
|
| But let the Choir Sing
|
| (Choir Humming)
|
| Yea you know how it be
|
| All 'em thugs gon' thuggin' the streets
|
| But let the Choir Sing
|
| (Choir Humming)
|
| Now put your hoods on
|
| Put your gloves on, nigga! |