Lyrics:
It's a yig-a-young nigga rollin up out the cut
Do a drive-by with the feds on my nutts.
Niggas be gettin' gatted when they step to this G
See I pull
your arms
Like speedstick
Ride through your hood
In a blue impala
Like we crips
Roll down the tints, G-Unit
I'm a head busta, lil scrappy
When
leave then hit you up in the hood,
A nigga gon' bleed and Peedi don't need good
And I'm G.A.M.E. so please don't tempt me
This one is for my hood, my
Lettin other niggas just regulate they hours
Coke or chronic, philly roll millie by his scrotum
Barrel x to g packs
Never got along with cops, like it
send 'em back son, or feel that casket
The peeps be like one (one)
I'm moving on passin' chumps, and very thoroughly promoted by God's Son
G
(g-g-geah)
I'm in your hood (g-g-geah)
If you a gangsta, what you hid for?
Somebody better get bruh 'fore he get sent for
Say you wanna squash it (ayy,
kinda odd
And rat a tat tat with my gat, sat in my lap G
The Hilton Hotel was my spot, I'm runnin my things see
I went from hustlin cheese, to double
and pimp c.
U.g.k. and fiend? this straight for all the niggas in the hood
Niggas on the corner, every nigga in the penitentitary.
Nigga, this busta
Lou Ferrigno,
Made by the Nero, look like a zero,
Shine the spotlight, this is my night,
Get your cameras ready, let it rain confetti,
I'm
I'll risk my career
That's a fact they ain't talking no rap shit
I'm talking that mack clip, niggas will backflip, act sick
My dude study the sabbath
No
Post traumatic stress, PTSD
If you from the hood then you just like me
Niggas kick in your door for a PS3
How the fuck do you expect me to be stress
here, I swear I'll risk my career
Thats a fact they ain't talking no rap shit
I'm talking that mack clip, niggas will backflip, act sick
My dude study
Post traumatic stress, PTSD
If you from the hood then you just like me
Niggas kick in your door for a PS3
How the fuck do you expect me to be stress
fucked up what you did
I hooked you up with my girl and shit
You fucked her, every time you see her
You don't even say shit to her, you know what I'm
I guess you know
The way ya stack chips and regulate wild dough
But ain't no G-funk and far from my era
Tales from the hood your boyz will feel
X-amount of (?)
Son, bwoy, African and tough, all nice and decent
A-yeah yeah, I'm tryin to ride with a diamond like you
Lookin pretty in the club, plus
motherfucker, we takin' the hood back
I'm a G, hell yeah, I don't bull
Got yo? bitch lookin' mad while them Fingaz so full
I drank hard while you niggaz
(Holiday season)
I feel so free (so free)
So loose, drinks on me
I'm too G, Gucci links on me (ah)
Game locked down, I'm the nigga with the key
I see
Aiyyo, turn those lights down
While I'm recording!
Matter 'fact y'all niggas get the
Fuck out the room, g!
Straight up! Sipping on
That bullshit
the streets strapped with them thangs
She in love with a G so she tatted my name (Ross!)
I'm the biggest boss that ya seen thus far
Ten black maybacks back
said (alright)
And I live by the coast of Nostra Cit' (yeah)
Fuck around I'll knock your shoulder from your head (nigga)
Get it right I'm a soldier
I'm talking bout
If I show your bitch my house, she gone take my dick and floss
Show after show I'm getting dough
100 G's at a time
I'm M J round my
Life goes on in the streets of my hood when you die
But some cry, and gets by, while others choose to wonder why..
His life was took at such
the swiftness
If you think you're swift with the gift, Merry Christmas
Now stuff that in your stocking
I'm knocking 'em out the box an'
Knocking 'em out their
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