| Um, yeah palms sweating guess it’s time for the murder
|
| My nigga my nerve, I swerve left you dead on the curb
|
| Tell his family get them black clothes
|
| Any witness gets a 9 cold, could do this with a blindfold
|
| I’m that player on the corner looking dry when it rains
|
| Pimp a dollar out a pussy, I ain’t trying to change
|
| Far from average, I’m smoking this cabbage
|
| Bottled teeth, joint karats, say cheese, make the cops freeze
|
| Big cribs, four bars, living pipe dreams
|
| You only gangsta through your bop screen
|
| Might set the reason for the crime scene
|
| Fill up the city with madness
|
| We the reason the hearses left your hood and holding up traffic
|
| Let the riddles do the scrapping, keep the gun in my fabric
|
| Better pistol than them badges, you get dealt with the maggots
|
| Heard drive-bys everyday
|
| Seen homies die early age, though we still gang bang anyway
|
| Uh, yeah, Figg side
|
| Though we still gang bang anyway, uh
|
| Though we still gang bang anyway, uh
|
| Though we still gang bang anyway, uh
|
| Though we still gang bang anyway
|
| B’s and them H’s, tats on faces, Glocks with extendos
|
| Chucking up the hood then throw like 80 out that window
|
| The chopper make you limbo
|
| Gotta keep them antennas up, moving down Central
|
| Young niggas with skinnies, moving with them semis
|
| Catch your ass leaving the club, murk you at Denny’s
|
| Squeeze till it’s empty, it seems so unreal
|
| 'Til the gunfire got you using tables as a shield
|
| East side, west side, niggas getting chastised
|
| Dropping like fruit flies, we all know who die
|
| We all go on Insta and get the whole rundown
|
| A 15 second clip until he put the gun down
|
| Know OG’s who took more shots like diabetics
|
| Had that MAC paint on your face like cosmetics
|
| Chucking up big ass B’s is my fetish
|
| Type of shit that make you go brazy if I let it
|
| Niggas got zippers, wheelchairs and prosthetics
|
| Though we still gang bang anyway, uh
|
| Though we still gang bang anyway, uh
|
| Though we still gang bang anyway, uh
|
| Though we still gang bang anyway
|
| Hundred days, hundred nights, nigga
|
| Let the K scream 'til we see the red and blue lights, nigga
|
| From the Hoovers to the Hundreds, nigga
|
| From Kelly Park to Bounty Hunters, nigga
|
| (Watch out for the shooters)
|
| Same age as the kids in Iraq now
|
| LA Chiraq now, funerals is packed now
|
| Preachers at the pulpit, Jesus is the background
|
| Grandmother get shot walking out the church
|
| How that sound?
|
| Niggas don’t really like it but we grew up in it
|
| City of angels, belly of the beast get chewed up in it
|
| Started as Black Panthers, everything power, everything pro black
|
| Started off unified the FBI know that
|
| A little coke sprinkled on tables but wasn’t no crack
|
| False imprisonment, Huey P, Geronimo Pratt
|
| Now close your eyes, listen to me, your mind’ll go back
|
| Picture us chained together under the boat, that’s a Kodak
|
| And since today is Thursday, let me hit you with a throwback
|
| Stolen identities, God left us here without lowjack
|
| Forced to find ourselves, forced to break up outta chains
|
| Got tired of getting hanged so we started our own gangs
|
| Tookie Williams (Crip), Sylvester Scott (Blood)
|
| Seventy two Lil' Country caught a slug
|
| And that was the first time a crip ever killed a blood
|
| Now the shit is worldwide cause it is what it was
|
| We know the history and we know the shit could end any day
|
| Though we still gang bang anyway, uh
|
| Though we still gang bang anyway, uh
|
| Crips, primarily African American gang
|
| Though we still gang bang anyway, uh
|
| Founded in Los Angeles, California 1969
|
| By Raymond Washington and Stanley Williams
|
| Though we still gang bang anyway
|
| Today there’s over a million Crip members worldwide
|
| Associated with the blue bandana
|
| Bloods, also primarily African American
|
| Street gang founded in Los Angeles county city known as Compton
|
| By Sylvester Scott and Benson Owens
|
| A mission he formed to provide members protection from the Crips
|
| Today there’s over 5 million Bloods worldwide
|
| The government still can’t contain us
|
| And our fate was sealed forever
|
| When 17 year old LA brim Frederick «Lil Country"Garrett
|
| Was murdered by west side Crips on June fifth 1972
|
| Hey man ain’t that Lil Country over there cuz?
|
| If it is, his ass gon' be laying in a blood river
|
| Hey man, make a u-turn and pull up on him real slow
|
| Alright cuz
|
| What’s happening Fred?
|
| Frederick, oh my god, oh my god Frederick no, no
|
| Please, oh my God
|
| Somebody help me
|
| Y’all just gonna fucking stand there? |
| Call the police
|
| Somebody help me, please
|
| Ok stay with me |