Street Shit

Where my hood at?

Where them red and blue flags, where that good at?

Somebody tell them hood rats to come up front

And let the club know I'ma smoke my blunt

(Ghost!) Money green, weed green, hood black, heart black

And never let 'em see where you live, where you park at

Never let 'em know how you get it just squash that

Never let the beef ride long, go squash that

You can shoot it out, or go and peace it up

If we was in jail I would make you give your sneakers up

Cause I'm a loyalist, and I spray shit

The 44 make niggaz look like crawfish

Cause you seafood, so go on sleep with 'em

I don't trust no niggaz, I don't eat with 'em

Matter fact, I'ma keep it street with 'em

I don't like his style, I don't even speak with him

I keep it G from the get-go

Real go-getter, and I let my shit blow

You don't wanna get your shit broke

I got the hawk, you don't wanna get your shit broke

Where my hood at?

Where them red and blue flags, where that good at?

Where them vanillas? Where that sticky?

Where my right hand man with the blicky?

Somebody tell them hood rats to come up front

And let the club know I'ma smoke my blunt

Bitch!! This ain't Gucci, this ain't Prada

This street shit I'm fuckin with them niggaz say "nada"

Hey yo it's never gon' be another

Shocked the world with the half face gorilla cover

Clip on top of each other, now e'rybody wanna listen to the G

Funny I'm on the plane watchin "Get Him to the Greek"

Twenty thousand when I land just to listen when I speak

Bully, he in my will somewhere, he like to eat

"I Get High," high like P's song (AYYYYY!)

That's why my shades on, used to be in love with Nia Long

Donny ain't around now I'll talk 'bout Viet Cong

That's means more bitches more haters on my song

But I don't go back and forth, me no ping-pong

Donny at your door like Avon, DING-DONG!

Yeah, me and my E hawk

Pop them things off on your block then later we pop klikko

Hah! Amazing ain't it?

If you can paint a bigger picture, well go 'head and pain it

Geyeah

Geyeah, bang like them white boys in mosh pits

Hach-too spit on your favorite rapper, he's not shit

... My catalogue is colossus

Blunt for the prelude, one for the process

Perform with a swarm of fully loaded objects

Make it clearer than Podus ring

I'm reachin for my phone cause I hear it before it ring

I'm reachin for my gun cause I hear it before it ring

... In the hood, I'm a muse

Phantom that's verbal, demolition in the booth

Slicker than the oil that you get at the masseuse

Chrome thing with the conehead in the goose

Addin in the Coupe, subtractin what I shoot

Get in with a axe and some matches and a noose

You have no idea, on the havoc I produce

'til it's way too late, the brain matter's on your shoes

Geyeah