Текст песни
Stop at the store, make my - pump the gas
And when we get home, you fitting to cut my grass
In my Cutlass, 1982
My baby mama tell me, "Los, I ain't afraid of you"
- your threats, 15 percent of all my scrilla
Man, that's the mother of my children, I can't kill her
So I break bread and proceed to get -
From a blonde - but her - hair red
Strawberry patch got my back scratched up
These other - rapping, but they can't catch up
I'm blessed by the lord, Trinity keyboard
Peace to filero representing freeport
I'ma rock the Casper, cold as Alaska
I'm sipping on a twoza and a 12-ounce Shasta
Dolce & Gabbana on my Nana Republic
I keep my - rugged 'cause the real - love it
What's the rock cooking, nah, I'm cooking rock
Got my - working at the butt naked spot
I'ma bunny hop my new drop out the shop
Peace to Big Chief from the what, Rap-A-Lot
I'm a hogging dog while I creep in the fog
Pull out my - and tell my - I need a job
If you want service, I'm at 1-800-Murders
Flipping chickens while you -s flipping cheeseburgers
I'm sipping on Durbas, wetter than some surfers
Clown them so bad I should join the - circus
Snatching -s purses, hope my luck reverses
I'ma take the two-piece with the biscuit from churches
No way the churches could ever clean my paper
Tell my mom I love her, tell my dad I don't hate you
Story Carlos Coy, ese bato es bien loco
17 ki's and started off with one ocho
We kick in doors, we robbing stores
Creep 64's, welcome to gangsta life
Packing beams, destroying dreams
Sag dickie jeans, we make them see the light
In studios, with mafios, - jazzy
It just don't ever stop so industry prepare for me
That double C, my nuts is all I got
I walk in the club -s stare at me
-, you got something you wanna share with me
Can't we just all live marily?
Just wishing they could bury me
I pull my quete, mom say I'm just like my jefe
Creeping my carrucha, banging screw
Throw up a efe soy el SPM, for my gente
They want me on the billboard to say got leche
Remember me from Reveille, X - was Beverly
Every time a - got shot cops questioned me
Teenage murderer, - named Ursula
Chunked her and the baker she the - they searching for
Rolling out the hood, I came from the impossible
Up a long gonna make it to a Conoco
And if I did, what makes you think I'd have the dough?
Hollering like that, is making me unstoppable
I'ma drop a fool and let him feel these things
Ghetto vero pack a fero show you who I am
I'ma make a change, didn't show the game
Wanna know my name, and you heard of me
I don't love a -
Work at Stop-&-Go, cool like an eskimo
Down to shovels, no, and blizzard blind the game
No more dying, this - can't be in vain
I'ma see it, believe it we gone beat this man
In the streets of game, this - can't stay the same
Steadily praying man, Diosito spread the world
Dice el Juanito, dope will always sell itself
We kick in doors, we're robbing stores
Creep 64's, welcome to gangsta life
Infrared beams, destroying dreams
Sag dickie jeans, we make them see the light
In studios, with mafios
- jazzy -s, it just don't ever stop
Industry, prepare for me
This double C, my nuts, is all I got
That's all I got in this, dirty, dirty -ing game
Uh, slanging -, uh, and pack my little thang, uh
I got a nice aim, uh, it's about money, - fame
It ain't no shame, I'ma come down sun or rain
S.P. - Mexicano, acting bad, one throwed vato
From H-Town to Colorado, uh, that's my motto
I rock -s, I rock shows, I pop foes, what's the deal?
We in this - freestyling
Is it so good out there, man, or what?