Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Family Thang, artist - South Central Cartel. Date of issue: 02.08.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Family Thang |
| Nigga |
| Who a real rider is? |
| My family fool! |
| That’s right |
| Puts it down on any hood or clique |
| That’s real trick |
| It’s the young mackola, slangin crack to stackola |
| The chip motorola holds the .44 to blow ya Dohja smoke ignites the fire like lighters |
| The drop 64's catch the hoes on sighta |
| Let’s take a trip to where the homies puts it down |
| They get (?) and say I never come around |
| But I’m in traffic, tryna make a proper come up Livin in this hell hole makes me wanna blow my dome up My baby mama is more righteous than they come |
| The hood’s on my back, the child support don’t help me none |
| So now I’m on a mission, niggas in my rear view |
| Damn it’s the homie, what the fuck them niggas up to |
| I bust a U. and still the homies on my backside |
| I grab the .44 hit the petrol in a G-O metro |
| And damn, I still got payments on this muthafucka |
| I lost all the hub caps and the homies I don’t trust 'em |
| Well Young Prod if these niggas start trippin |
| And Twin I got your back too if it’s mo’than two |
| And if it’s mo’than three they gotta fuck with me And that’s how it’s gon swing with this family thang |
| Y’all niggas kill me, feel me down when you up around |
| Clown me, down me when your ass not up around me Now tell me G who’s the fuckin playa hata |
| Mad 'cause I put my family up on some paper |
| My homie Joe gave me the 'fo on your bitch-ass |
| Hey troop I got your back loc, so won’t you put the smash |
| Down, clowns like you I call haters |
| Mad 'cause you jock us but still can’t fade us It’s young trip on a creep as I tips down, man |
| They got nothin to lose but 50 G’s to gain |
| If I maintain a low profile like a Pirelli |
| 'Cause niggas be schemin like evil side and wicked dreamin |
| Night after night be havin a nigga straight plottin |
| Like Oliver Stone out to get a grip of his own |
| And it’s on and ain’t no fakin niggas out for the takin |
| But if they come at me wrong Rata-tat-tat, ain’t no get bacc |
| Now from the gate I gots to skate block to block when I’m swervin |
| Puffin up on that herb and still down for curb servin |
| Cutlass on deck, niggas trip, I’m a winner |
| Khakis and Chuck T’s, gold D’s as I bend the |
| Nigga’s block, batteries hot, lockin a 40 |
| Gold Rhimeson packin heat and it’s on Niggas playa hatin 'cause I stack the chip, dippin in a C-low |
| Puttin my bang down with my kinfolks |
| I see them half-ass hoes so damn down I used to figure |
| But now I’m hearin shit, it makes me wanna pull a trigger |
| Nigga, I put you down when you had nathin |
| Nigga, but now I’m hearin 'bout your playa hatin |
| Rollin in my low-low '64 loc, with my kinfolks |
| Fake-ass locs they get smoked tho' |
| We still deep, we be tight like Vice Grips |
| Collectin chips, dumpin clips on niggas who set trip |
| (Outro) |
| BiAtch |
| Westside and Eastside |
| Takin your ass on a gangsta ride |
| So peep this shit out nigga |
| It’s the in-a-cut-gang, baby, baby |
| And it’s the South Central Cartel, baby |
| And it’s the Young Prod thang, baby, baby |
| And all them niggas can’t fade me |
| I’m crazy |
| Yeah, we be puttin it down for the 199-muthafuckin-6 |
| You know what I’m sayin? |