Cripn 4 Life E

Yo Unc, you wasn't lying about these motherfucking Cookies, cuz. All this money I'm making, they thinking Mason. But I ain't Pappy, yo Unc, as clean as They come. Fuck it, my braids nappy. My older bitch want the Kit-Kat, I put on Like James gladly. Range or the same Caddy, yes dear with the Same navi. I'm up early at the crack of Dawn, moving like a marathon. Uncle Snoop in the coupe, we groove, stoop, Back up on a bad bitch twisting my locks, Jack-in-the-box. Do it major, slang my flavor as I Stay on the block. They raided the spot. I'm hot, devilish features but heaven-sent. Pimp shit, mink to the floor, my bitch in Leopard print. Pimp. I don't trick, paper on your Chick something I never spent. Never. It's me and Snoop, twin drop coupe, cookies The medicine. Skywalk in the Everglades, Cuz I'm forever paid. Cut from a different cloth, I guess I'm a Renegade. Drinking Crip juice with a splash of some Lemonade. We on daters and we skating like a Ice parade. Gelato, we can light for days, On God I'm a boss now. On God. Uptown nigga, I was up in Harlem Knocking dog pounds. Used to the water, nobody get Nervous if it's sharks 'round. Chains glow in the dark now, foreigns'll hardly walk Now. Used to run, now I walk. All the cases I done fought. All the birds that I done bought and all Them bitches that they thought that they could get A piece of my establishment. Nah-uh. Looka here bitch, I ain't having it. If I blast this shit, watch the opp do A backward flip. My Backwood lit, F&N got a plastic grip. Had an advantage in the trap, was good at Math and shit. Skrrt. Used to back up the Doggy style, you can't imagine this. It's like a action flick with the mac and Pimp. The rap I spit will hit you like A tag and split. Bag the fit, blue rag sack for this. You mad as shit, my nigga East bagged your Bitch. Got her. Blue diamonds, blue hoodies, Feel like I could never Crip enough. Unc put on for years, who am I to Fuck tradition up? Don't even trip nephew, Just clean the kitchen up. And keep it Cripping for life, never switching up. Never. Yeah. Real talk. From Dogg Pound to Uptown. Real shit. You can't spell the West without the E-S. You know what it is. Real hustlers. Real Crip. Shout out to my nigga Mars, My guy, For hooking up this motherfucking beat. Yo East, I told you when you hit the Motherfucking LAX, touch down nigga. 'Cause I got that bubblegum, That real shit, that real Crip shit, you know What I'm talking about? That hubba bubba, that blue Bubblegum, cuz. You can't get it nowhere but here. For real, Have a little bit of that Crip juice with A splash of lemonade And a bubblegum Backwood, and you gon' be all Right. You understand me? Yeah, East.