Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Sac-A-Indo (Where I'm From), artist - X-Raided. Date of issue: 31.10.2001
Song language: English
Sac-A-Indo (Where I'm From) |
| Where I’m from hell ah niggas is bitches |
| In Southside Sacramento mouth dry cause ah sacs ah the indo |
| Where jealous niggas get stitches they mouths wide |
| When we crack 'em wid pistols and celibate bitches |
| Develop addiction and didn’t keep they mouth |
| Quiet when we fuck 'em and kick 'em, out the telly |
| Tell us we trippin' but she just another victim |
| Develop a suckers for crippin' ya heard Gordon Block |
| I’ma keep bailin' and flippin' birds till my heart stop |
| Depart from carlots, and brand new car tops |
| Observe yo bitch face, observe the big face |
| Spark Glocks to clip hate and nigga like some split ends |
| Puff herb drunk drive wreck, we switch Benz |
| Neglect yo bitch kids I, fuck her with them in the room |
| And damn how pregnant she is I |
| Fuck her with them in the room, doggystyle |
| Let’s part it slip it in and fuck with the pain |
| If your, kid is boring starting this is cause I’ve been |
| Pumpin' his brain |
| Dogging 'em out cause in the South we smash |
| And don’t discriminate we sprayin' clips |
| My house as big as cess pools without sayin' shit |
| Eliminatin' the hatin' wid torturous behaviour |
| And only, trustin' my cousins till the Lord come and save us |
| When ya down wid me (nigga!) |
| If ya clown wid me (nigga!) |
| Nothin' browns only green! |
| Blow pounds with me (nigga!) |
| You can ride wid me (nigga!) |
| Do or die wid me (nigga!) |
| Whatever town homie gleam! |
| When you shine with me (nigga!) |
| Where I’m from a gang ah triggers get squeezed |
| And a gang ah niggas’ll bleed |
| If you motherfuckas get to claimin' you Gs |
| I’m flamin' you weenies like pussy wid a dangerous disease |
| Like I’m a clamidia, from the city ah the, bangenest Gs |
| And it burns like, concrete at a hundred degrees |
| So fuck with me if you wan' be in monstrous beef |
| Hamburger Hill my, scrambler serve and cheat |
| And where I’m from pain is all ah nigga deserve and feel |
| I bend savvy, niggas think five hundred got me paid |
| Fantastic!, forty claibre burn ya like colli grade man drastic |
| Shit’ll get crackin' when I get gat and mask and clips |
| And leave niggas dead in the street like mad caskets |
| And I’ma keep creepin' for niggas grills (strike sicc say) |
| And I’ma keep teachin' niggas to kill like Sensi |
| I drink Hen straight and look for a jaw law to bend |
| Misanthropy, raided and Dogg is like all men |
| Y’all bein' bent under pressure like bad pipes |
| So I leave ya lookin' like Tony Lopez after a bad fight |
| Light it up, leave him holy wid no head shot him up |
| Mop him up, and to be sure we know he dead chop him up |
| Where I’m from all my homies is shinin' |
| You provoke the wrong loc ended up |
| 'tacked broke lonely and grindin' |
| Half you niggas ah get smacked wid gats infront ah ya folks |
| And choked 'til I leave handprints on both sides ah ya throat |
| Dime is blindin' y’all niggas like sunrays |
| Gun rays, bustin, make your vision green like concussion |
| Gun spray, wettin' niggas up like a sprinkler |
| Have your heart flashin' on and off like a blinker |
| Smashin' it up, opposite direction on the runway |
| Rushin, in and outta traffin' causin' collisions that crash |
| And the cops’ll get blast wid no discretion |
| Shootin' slugs in and outta asses like erections |
| And take off like jets on the runway |
| Shootin' thugs wid weapon out and givin' up confections |
| To the graphics you gon' play, gun play |
| Teachin' them niggas lessons like classes |
| And we keep them niggas stressin' guessin' |
| Wonderin' when we catch 'em |