I put my black jumps on, black golf hatBlack Ben Davis with a big black gapBig fat sack, keep the locs on stackAnd Dimes gotta have fat backYou got that stag making on this West Coast *Now every album got to have a radio hitLet's make the radio love this underground *Before this * pops, homies get down with itI bet they bout to bang the blocks to thisCartel got them flaming glocks to thisRocks to this, and wanna hate or not to thisLike that P.E. * makes them plunk they fistsIt's been a while since I've been on thisI bless the hood with heatHeld it down in the S.E. streets and swapped meatsThe cartel got that *To make your bitch want me to hit and don't quitThey love it, so I still come with itWest Coast classic *, we done did itWe don't just talk the *, we still live itAnd bitches try to show they ass, we will spit itNever underestimate the blendI got family down south, so they takes me inIt's gangster thenGap will lock the cityAnd send the cartel niggas at it againYou know something you should knowIf I set your car to tail, that's for sureWe'll see you in the angry * we don't knowDon't chill, cause we don't get enoughThere can be no others who don't decideJump up in my phone and we don't flyI watch my boy hit from side to sideDon't get it on, don't get it onThe hurricane that don't dance, but we damn sure bookingGive a bitch dick when she holla for my cookiesI had ten dimes, every last one shook meGot some hood rats and stayed hookyThey love woodiesThey quit the ride for the nigga they chooseCatch up all the niggas slipping and they taking his hoosDevil remuse, they like it, you be feeling misusedBut watch your nuts if they ever repeat itI'm that faux faux gatta, backstreet bromaSome niggas Hollywood and I'm pulling the wool on yaThe streets don't condone ya, abstract angerNever seen a hood in your life, but claim bangerI born on the blocks with buckshot with blastedHomies getting covered in plastic closed casketsThe cartels serve these blocksWhere hard times comes along with hard knocksAnd yea, spiked homies got heat like Fort KnoxAnd young murder squads do work like top notchAin't no thang here, just a gang hereAnd keep it real if you ever say your name hereAin't no game here, what you claim hereYou better live it, cause that's what you getThe * can get you slain hereFrom the projects of Jai to the bridge of QueensReal G niggas doing real thangsFrom the hoods down south all in betweenReal G niggas doing real thangsFrom the west coast blocks where the gangstas leaveReal G niggas doing real thangsThe cartel gang back with a gangsta teamReal street niggas doing real thangsReal life bullets showWe'll see you when the game's a-* we won't goDon't tell your girls, don't give it a blowThere can be no others so don't be sorryOpen up or then we gon' pryAnd watch my four-hits run side to sideDumb-ditty-***b, ***b-ditty-***b-***bDa-da-da-da-***b-dee-da-da-***Da-da-da-da-***b-dee-da-da-***We'll see you next time.