C-walkin' Cha Cha Cha

In a matter of time, pullin out my pistols and bombs

Me and diggy gettin wiggy wet out of our minds (hey!)

In a couple of days, switch it up a couple of ways

In a matter of time, findin out so this world could be mine

I'ma crack the bolt, snatch all the money and coke

I'm goin for broke pistols, poppin off from the doe

I'm launchin 'em all, missiles in the swarm of the war

Storm, now everybody on the motherfuckin floor

In five seconds, 'bout to leave, five reasons why

High on sky, 'bout to blast everythin inside

I think I'm good at the (?), C-Walkin cha cha cha

To the bang bang boogie, ha ha! (ha ha ha!)

Nigga we smokin on some bomb bomb, rollin wit my lights off

Not givin a fuck nigga, Daz and Kurupt nigga

Pistols in my right palm, just in case the war's on (yeah!)

Over through the war zone, with calicos and the chrome

(Kurupt)

What you forgot about the chucks, the khaks, the t-shirts

The glocks, the dope spots, the curb, the herb

Swangin, gang-bangin, O.G.'s, double fo's, six fo's

Bitches and hoes, methodone, head up, scramble

Ridin by high, wit the heaters bout to heat the sky

I'm about to drop the bomb, nigga load the clip

(The motherfuckin G's back up in this bitch)