Neva Left E

Dog, what up, man? Word on the street says you ain't what you Used to be. I gangbang to the fullest. A lot of niggas talk about it, but they Really don't do it, do it. So I'm doing it for y'all. Mark or a busta, I'ma ruin it for y'all. Stomp down, strap up, mash up, And get it cracking with the slapper. Jacker, smacker. Rapper? Nah, nigga, that ain't me. Gangsta? Yeah, nigga, can't you see? Rider, like the toners on my Chevrolet. West Coast, motherfucker, that's the only way. Yeah, homie, what you say? Home of the woof, womp, and gunplay. A lot of homies shoot the J, but most Of them prefer to shoot the K. Yeah, that's the good life. And where we come from, loc, that's the hood Life. Where your mama and daddy throw the set up Out the moon while they swing in the Caddy. Bets on the set, tats on they neck. Street sweep with the heat. Yep, it stay on deck. Uh, I'm dazed and blazed. No confusing, I'm choosing. This how I was raised. Bring that out and bag it up, no doubt. Swing it out and let it up and bang That out. This is Crip, nigga. That's crazy, cuz. You know, my whole life, I wanted to be a gangsta, man. I used to see my OG homeboys at King Park Riding on bikes with their chains with their flags On the end. C-Walk and Stacy Adams, Five-O-One. That shit was fascinating. The Miles Davis of gangbanging, them crack slanging, Driving a fresh rock rental with Glocks in 'em. I'm fresh out the county, I'm boxing up. Moved on up and bought a Continental, nigga with Knock in it. Now I'm rocking it, Six-one blocking it. If y'all ride by, my nigga, we cocking it. Popping on them imposters, fake-ass mobsters. Eastside, nigga, no stopping us. My recipe is treachery. The best of me, nigga, the West could be. A better place with a wetter base. Put a nine millimeter in your fucking face. Unless you say your grace before you have a Taste of reality set in. Yeah, it's your fate. Now your homies at your funeral plotting on some Get back. But you can't get back 'cause, Nigga, you dead. Another sad gangsta story. It usually runs with the territory. No nuts, no glory. No pain, no gain. Life for a nigga growing up in the game. Just swing them things, drink and sell a little Cocaine. Get locked up for a minute, now we In it to win it. Now everybody know me. You're watching the making of a real OG. Yeah, They say if you watch something long enough, you'll Become it. You know, They say imitation is the best form of flattery. That's what I was told. A lot of niggas is imitating this real gangsta Shit. You ain't cut from it. You dig? Yeah, Scaring all the white folks while staying on the Right note. And you can quote me if you want to. Don't say what you will do. Nigga, what you gon' do? I'm live in the flesh. Caught him on Imperial, left five in his chest. Surviving the West is an everyday cycle. You never know, it might go blam. Now how you like me now? Crip to your slim, Mr. Big Bad Wild. Yeah, it's my chance to prance. I got ants in my pants and I needs To dance. I go for broke, no joke. I gotta put my drink down. I'm trying to C-Walk, loc. Think I'ma take off, break off, and make off With the cash. At the pad with a thick Little bitch, she super bad. Gangsta, gangsta. Futuristics. Snoop, y'all. Forty-eight hundred. C's up. Yeah. Shoot a shout out to my homeboys from Harlem 30. Yeah. Real shit. All my niggas from East Coast. Six-O's. Eight-Treys. Hoovers. Main Street. All my niggas in Compton. Southside. You dig? Nutty Block. Santana. Oh, I can't forget them Long Beach niggas. Eastside Insanes. Rolling 20 Crip. 19th Street. Westside. You know what's happening. Seventh Day. West Coast. Northside. Four Corner Block. Old Hood. Yeah. Crip shit.