Lyrics Tookie Knows II - ScHoolboy Q, Traffic, TF

Tookie Knows II

Ga—Gangbanging, that Crip shit
Niggas said «cuz» in the first grade
In the shade where the cops can’t see us (Can't see us)
Eighteen, tryna dodge the cage
It was cool 'til that gang sweep (Sweep)
Now I’m in back of a van and my wrists got a band (Got a band)
Got a number for a name (For a name)
No name on the visit, no call get accepted
Now I’m forced to a man (To a man)
Murder raps, where you from?
Put the nigga on his pockets
Watch the COs, they be watching (Watching)
Counting noodles for the hustle (Yeah)
County spread for the muscle
Couple marks on my knuckles (Yeah, yeah)
Puttin' niggas on bunk status (Yeah)
Shoulda been with the bitch-ass
Now he on a mattress that we bench-press
PC, get the Froot Loops (Ooh)
Keep tellin' on niggas
Why I fuck with that nigga?
(Nah, ayy, nah, ayy, yeah)
Nigga made bail but I’m still at rage
Should I thank God for the hell I raised?
'Cause the nigga that snitch is gonna feel that grave, like
Ain’t nothin' to a Loc, huh?
(Huh)
Went missin' to his folks, I ain’t in, I ain’t know, huh?
(Huh)
They ain’t show up to the court, huh?
(Huh)
But then charges gotta go, huh?
(Huh)
A young nigga back on Figg (Ugh)
H-Crown on wig, shoestrings say where I’m from
On probation and got my gun
Other side goin' for that thumb (Blop-blop!)
Motherfucker, I’m gangbanging (Ouu, ugh, Gotti)
Nigga I’m blue’d up (Crip), blue Chucks
Blue tee, nigga, I keep it G (I keep it G)
Nigga, in the streets is where I be
I’m up like breakfast while niggas sleep (I got that…)
Me and Floyd posted on Figg (Posted)
Getting it in and moving it up
Getting it in and moving it out
I’m holding the heat, he watching the block
I’m watching for cops, I’m holding these rocks (Holding)
Fiends keep coming, this shit don’t stop (Don't stop)
When it’s war time, niggas get popped (Pop)
We might die for this shit, off top
My nigga gon' ride for this Crip, no lie (Nigga)
But I ain’t dead, yeah, nigga, thank God (Thank God)
Money got niggas lookin' at me all odd (What you—)
Broke-ass niggas better go get a job
Run up on me wrong, bitch nigga, get popped (Get popped)
I’m gon' ride for this shit, on Crip
A nigga gon' die for this shit, they trip
Four-fif extendo, with fifty in the clip
TF by my side, he stupid with this shit
Q in the ride gripping on the fifth
Run up on me wrong (Nigga, err—)
My nigga, my nigga, I’m gangbanging
Ugh, might go down for this check, nigga
Ugh, I might die for this set, nigga (Ayy)
I ain’t trippin nigga, I ain’t slipping
Niggas lying saying I ain’t Cripping
Back to back, me and Tiny smack
I said back to back, straight cups of 'gnac
Niggas ask, «What he signed for?»
I got an eightball, I got a Rondo
I got an AK—when that bitch spray
It’s like pullin' strings on a lawnmower
Last time I seen jail, nigga
I was cell living, getting mail in it
I ain’t even talking mail, nigga
PayPals for the cell, nigga (Ha)
Hit the streets and cause hell, huh?
School of hard knocks, fuck Yale, huh?
See me and Traffic like a orca, nigga
And the black-and-whites, love whale watch (Ugh)
Front-line like mailboxes (What?)
5−12, that’s the numbers on it (What?)
May first, May deuce, May twelfth, members only (Agh)
.45, no numbers on it (Ugh)
Scratched down, I’m strapped down (Brr)
Might go down for this shit (What?)
If I don’t then I’m racked down (Racks)
Rank up there with Shaq crown
I got a Benji button like Brad Pitt (Brad Pitt)
I press that, I’m getting rich
I might go down for this shit (This shit)
We might die for this shit, nigga
Ugh (Ugh), might go down for this shit, nigga
Ga—Gangbanging, that Crip shit
We might die for this shit, nigga
Ugh (Ugh), might go down for this shit, nigga
Ga—Gangbanging, that Crip shit
We might die for this shit, nigga
Ugh (Ugh), might go down for this shit, nigga
Ga—Gangbanging, that Crip shit
We might die for this shit, nigga