| Yeah… still ridin'…we still ridin'…P-Dog
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| Nigga we without flaws you comin' without balls
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| Still down for the cause… P-Dog…now who really raw… Bitch
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| Boom Boom in the night — so now we fight
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| Caps peel, piggies squeal — who wrong or right?
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| Street soldier kill em slow — homicidal
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| We dogs in a sea of bitches — ain’t crack a smile
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| Soundin' off the battle cry — we draw the line
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| Fuck around and crack his spine — for all his crimes
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| Bitch devil still ain’t learned — just like his pops
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| Wanna make these bullets burn — with twenty shots
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| Propogators of the peace — we never ceased
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| But never listened to our pleas — so now he bleeds
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| Like Oaklahoma city Timmy — It won’t be pretty
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| Catch him in a subcomittee — and have no pity
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| Look at all the people we got — with Sonic Jihad
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| Last Cell never see us — now what you thouht?
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| Swervin to these dj mixes — we ridin' sixes
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| AMG with chrome centers — twenty inches
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| East coast west coast — we stay composed
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| Love us everywhere we goes — the people know
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| Holdin' down the shit we buildin' - Guerrilla Funk
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| Even though the milk is spillin' - I’m in your trunk holla
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| w/ Capelton
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| Ridin' dirty through they downtown feelin no love around town
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| Now some be tryin' to clown but how many can hold they ground now
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| Labels be abusive confusin with what they choosin'
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| And these stations mistakenly contemplatin' us losin'
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| We bruisin' all these faulty ass critics — and these emcees
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| That coward ass rap shitted — they wannabes
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| Labels never made the culture — you got it twisted
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| So recognize these fuckin' vultures — and where they fit in
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| w/ Capelton
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| Now tell me how many devils prone — to do me wrong
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| Try to fit they mittens on — my provalone
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| The radio’ll never play it — we never heard
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| They only love us killin niggas, and slangin birds
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| Guerrillafunk.com — we keep it bomb
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| Give the people what they want — with every song
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| With raw shit we keep it mannish — don’t get it twisted
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| And motherfuck these cowards plans — we keep upliftin'
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| w/ Capelton |