sometimes you see things that aren't there (Like what?) Like fat woman in G-strings with orange hair (Mr. Shady what's a G-string?) It's yarn Claire Women
m watching the dialect Different from the slang of my talk Baby still living got a crack in front of another bad bitch that will Boost for the spot I'
got sweated By some nigga with a tech 9 tryin' to take mine ya wanna make noise, make noise I make a phone call my niggaz comin' like the Gotti boys
your life, live it Proud to be black, young and gifted Lifted by the knowledge and takin the right route Gang violence needs to be wiped out A-l-m-i-g
sweated By some nigga with a Tek 9 tryin ta take mine ya wanna make noise, make noise I make a phone call my niggas comin like the Gotti boys bodies
my style, you done stole my flow, You done seen me out, you gets no hello, And you wonder why? Man you know you know, Yeah and you should let them boys
ohhhh F.M. D.E.M.I.G.O.D.Z. It's like oh, ohhh, ohhhh D.I.P.S.E.T. S.O.B. G's I came from pumping 60K out the trunk switchblades Ziggy stuff nicknames
disappear niggas like spinnin rims Who the fuck want a war? Meet us at the corner store Call it the hot spot Where gangbangers throw hot rocks The boys
[Intro: The Game] Crip niggaz Blood niggaz, ESE's, Asians Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, White Boys, Jamaicans Latin Kings, Disciples, Vice Lords, Haitians
yous a real motherfucker (I fuck I fucks with ya) If you is a hustler (Yeah I fucks with ya) If you is a ganster my boys'll keep it real yeah (I fucks
know the nigga then serve the dummy, Serve the junkies then ride ashantis [Hook] What's the bombaglats my trap-spot, dreadlocks and rastas, rude boys
it's time to re-up It's time to re-up, it's time to re-up; [Verse 1: Yatta Mann] Boys what it do? Nigga getcha g's up Dope man bitch! Call me Mr.Re-Up
is the final boarding call for flight 1259 departing from Los Angeles, final destination to St. Louis Thank you [Ice Cube] Damn G, the spot's gettin
[Intro: Little Russ, Ice Cube] [story-teller] Once upon a time, in the black part of the city [young kid] Yo G, yo G you better get out of here man,
t have no muh'fuckin seat on your, on your bicycle Now you uhh, the head of black music That's what I'm talkin bout right there homey - G, whattup G?
Believe or not, the ki's ten G's (??) Until I die I pullin' ego that be's the block And he's so hot that four hundred degrees the spot And weed and vodk