Текст пісні
Hey yo, check this out, y'all
Since we almost at the last song
Won't y'all kick some of
That fly-ass gangsta shit?
Alright once again, a black nigga named KMG
And now it's time to drop
Some real pimpin' shit
Knowledge it, 'cause we livin' like hustlers
Comin' from USC for those that don't know
That's the University of South Central
So bless the 40oz
'Cause this is somethin' to jump on
Well, you can drink whatever
Like I said before
Ain't nuthin' changed but the weather
'bout to take you to a
Higher plateau of hustlers
Hustlers beyond control
Homies ranchin', rollin' nationally
Clockin' hoes we was there when the pimpin'
Shit was put down yo, 187
(What's up, man?) yo, this shit is flowin'
(Muthafuckin' right, it is)
Yeah, let's take our time and do
It the way a player would (Alright)
Okay!
Here we go, flowin' on and on
Well since we do it so well
That's the name of the song
Let's break it down
We're rollin' nationally, clockin' hoes
Well, just to turn 'em into freaks
But if they turn to foes we don't need 'em
We know too many backstabbers now
In our face they say they're with it
Behind they back they put us down
And try to clown, a player like me
187 from 'Mona and my homie the rancher from
The city of Toners
I hit a corner, 'cause they ballers in LA
We give our props to the homies
That be clockin' on the Trey
They sayin', "What's up, G's
Tell me what's happenin'
I heard you're clockin' dollars
But you're still out there rappin'"
You should know, it's my cash flow
Now I'm just hangin'
With these beats called dope and
These rhymes that I'm slangin'
That are so fly, we can't deny, we must reply