Lyrics:
anything from
The five and ten cent store,
You used to call me the top
You put me up on a throne
You let me fall with a drop
And now I'm out on my
anything from
The five and ten cent store,
You used to call me the top
You put me up on a throne
You let me fall with a drop
And now I'm out on my
How they say I'll never make it i ain't even done
Don't need your 2 cents need blue faces by the ton
Tsai shen I'm his Son
Asian god with the funds
Split the money 4 ways nigga
Riding by myself
Foot on the gas
No cruise control keeps a nigga on track
Complete a short goal, wouldn't be my last
Now I'm
Answer
Jewels on me come from the Jungle
They blood diamonds
Planet of the apes
Banana clips
And cop sirens
Posted by the store
Cause you really need more
Griselda, by Fashion Rebels
Haha, the devil's reject, nigga conway
See, that's that's the fuck is
Wrong with you niggas
You little niggas hard
[ INTRO ]
Gyeah
We're on this smooth shit
Takin you back to the old school (westside)
Gyeah
Hoo-Bangin in the house
And right about now
We got
on the Westside
Trevon (What up, neph? What's cracking?)
I wanna visit LA, I'm already packed
Been already stacking so we
Gon' get turned up soon as you land
Purple
what I wanna be (10 Hoe!)
I wanna be a fuckin trillionaire! (10 Hoe)
I got them bricks for the high, and the purp by the pound
I'm posted
Eastside
Southside
Westside
Northside
We worldwide
And don't lie
And don't try
You come around my hood we ride And die yeah woah
Grab my hand, we
you, but me (but me)
'Cause we look like westside G's
Kaso babe walang silbi
Kung 'di kita,'di kita kasa-sa
Sino nang kakambyo habang nasa road
Ulo mo
I hold Mac's with 2-1's
plus the deuce-5's at my side so I got two guns (That's right)
Chorus:
It don't stop til the casket drop
Quick
man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats
Either you a hustler or a thief
All I needed was a quarter ki'
In the corner, me and my dog
homie
That was raised by the G
In the streets they call me Stone
I was raised on the V
And I don't snitch on the homies
Let alone a crimee
I'm a certified
By your Apostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel
Black C.O.B. flag hangin' out the left side
Blowin' in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside
Ran
we surrounded by faces that we don't recognize
Millionaire craving six pieces mild on the side
I be feeling like I'm Kanye in o five
Palm trees
gon' call in a pinch
It's Donny Dollas
And no I can't holla
If it ain't gon make me no cents
Blowin' cookie out the sunroof
Gas
Careful nigga
I can son
legit
Paramedics aint save his ass when he got hit
9 times like the cent, better call make a wish
I know he wouldn't last, how he go respond to this
I
and a strawberry bazooka,
5 for a haircut, and they can make it thorough,
And 50 cents can get you anywhere in the borough,
Karate movies came on Saturdays at 3,
They was shooting at the funeral
They was shooting at the funeral they ain't shot no funeral
Hell
This that block burner shit
That westside shit
This
rappers
Thinking they 'gon discover you
News flash this is not
Nineteen ninety five
Record labels stealing cents out the artists lives
Ill advised by
roled around in a drop top V
Like me, like we, YB, that's us
Too fast, too hard
(Take it all you need me)
Young buck, catch up
Yep
I'm a prime time
Compton and the bootys on the westside
Used to live in the eastside but we chose the bestside
Had it kinda rough but that only made us tough
We don't
the monkey from off my back
15 cents minus 5 is a dime
Sexy young ladies, let's intertwine
Greg N-i-c-e ran it down the line-line
[ VERSE 2: Preacher
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