Funk Fo Da Blvd. E

It's that funk For The boulevard. So as them things spin and squeak, And the dames grin and peek, we on the Same winning streak. Since I'm peaking on the Weekend, if you ain't leaking when you see me, Holler at that EG scholar all about that mighty Dollar. When I'm in that Oldsmobile, hoes gonna feel Quirked when we ski skirt on these dirts, putting In planet G work. Spray game explosive, sayer, C-Cal compulsive Player. You want me cashing, it's your ass that Ain't my boss shit payer. I'm on the move and all you busters wanna See me freeze. Better represent that clique known as The Elite G's. Ain't no cheapies play with that Weight every time we pull abroad. Like naked flurries flipping this shit for the Boulevard. While I'm striking, I'm flipping the Script. It's time to get ready. I'm cracking that Whip now to get your fetty. I'm popping my Funk up in your household with that sickness. Keeping it steady, get ready to bone with this. I'm bucking that Cadillac chrome up out the lot, Only ready to twist. The Elite G's, Mr. Boo Loco, what's up? Gotta drop that pie 'cause If you hide then you gonna miss me on This cut. But guess what? Fake players don't even roll. We keep them fools out the business, so here We go. And as I flow, and while I Twist this soul track to claim progression, and the Boulevard is right in my direction. Now here's the section where you funk with, no Matter where you drop that punk snitch. We out here in Seattle where these ballers come In fat cliques. It's funk for The boulevard. It's that funk for the boulevard. '96 we putting it down like we supposed to. You're steady making ground, but you cannot get Close to the players, the pimps, the boss, The macks. Striking up the block in a black Cadillac. Switches and gold D's, A.45 Smith & Wesson. I got something for these fools stressing. Holler at me baby if you wanna ride, And right past the haters we slide. If you a G come on, up out a Punk get gone. They got me choking on bum, I tell his gum. I'm getting blow all day, a new broad for Every day. It's just that West Coast in me, Man, what can I say? Stuck in the streets, I wanna see it crack. Game for the shit, that is something I can Never lack. Raised in the hood, It kept attitude hard. Stark for life with that funk for the boulevard. It's that the boulevard. It's that funk for the Boulevard. Hey, hey, giddy up. What you say? Boulevard boss bucking his horse, Wanna get laid. Former king of this concrete, Gave my tools to the Elite. Kicks up my feet and watch these fools rip Up streets. But I'm still known to ease through These ho zones and gets my mack on, take 'em home, hustle bone, now get gone. Slow my driving pace to a crawl. Shift to reverse 'cause you called. Backs up 'bout one block, pops my locks when I stop. I gets cocky, you gets cocky, I Don't flip-flop, nope. Like Rap and Ron and that Diddley, I pull This Glock quickly. So PA just don't start no Shit please. My goal is to poke, not shoot. Ask my group, we likes women and loot and Big German coupes. From OH10 to the hog yard, we clogging up Intersections. Playing funk for the boulevard, Yeah.