Yo, what's up, man?
What it is, 206
My nigga, Yo Trey
D-Block Riders
Real
Motherfuckin'
Hardcore gangster *
Comin' out the six
Bitch, they call me so
So, see ya!
Yeah, yeah
206, what?
What?
Come on, come on
Gangsters, rockers
Hustlers, pushers
Yeah, yeah
Gangsters, rockers
Hustlers, pushers
Light smokers need dope, my pockets need morphine
Morphine my pockets get
My pockets get more green
Man, that boy can spitty the *, but that's before me
Shoulda been three times platinum at the age of fourteen
Hustle day and night and I'm writin' without no car keys
Got a plaid hit and a pocket full of that dark green
Criminal minded gangster with a gun
With felonies, you got jealousies
Comin' at home hustlin' and makin' more bills to bail on me
It's never fellin' me to slow down, that's what they're tellin' me
I'm no first-class boss, down like these foreigners
Switch identities, never in the sports, but rappin'
Fool, I'm a vid, call me sick, like Sierra
I dare you to understand
Get checked like mates, I pierce through chest plates
Slash your face in half, we'll just equal the four eights
Where you from, are you dumb? Four fingers and you a thumb
Are you ready? Here I come
With guns bigger than punks, sick people
Gangsters, rockers, hustlers, pushers
Gangsters, rockers, hustlers, pushers
Gangsters, rockers, pushers, pushers
Can you feel me? I got a hundred niggas
Ready down to kill with me, and peel with me
Do you wanna deal with me?
Cause I'm a cowboy, baby
But if you didn't run from the hollow three
Yeah, this is crazy
How them part-time niggas be the first to recover
Get popped by my niggas, don't talk
Cause you get stalked by my niggas
Now who told you you could run from the chicken hawk?
Nigga, I'm the skipper, I dismiss you with a kiss
Hit you with the bump if leave you sleepin' with the fist
So vicious
Seventeen on the frame, south end in the middle
Columbia City gang bang
That's where the rivalry come three cars deep
Four heads up in the ride, and we all got heat
Don't be mistaken, cause in the south end we keep it quakin'
In a similar city livin', be havin' multi niggas shakin'
Guess who's takin' the whole cage?
Mrs. Young, Trey, Tad, and most hated
Bitch, don't * with your fame
Gangsters, rockers, hustlers, pushers
Mrs. Six with her lips gone sick like
Come and get her, won't Trey bring that pain
Like Lil' Wayne's with her
Y'all hardcore y'all like pool hosts
That don't watch it come back like doggy style
That's why big man * fixin' my big man dick
Yo boys, I'm trying to be rich, I don't need to complicate *
Knowin' right back like a tetherball
Sittin' in that black car
On the rim side like a disco ball, homies ain't no whack
Lil' boy can't muscle, spend like a million bucks
So trust I got a floor right next to me
Like you live on a club
A metaphor meanin' ho-talk, a Seahawk who see chickens
But really get * about these bitches
Knowin' so last year, I throw back like butt kisses
And y'all can do the same on some dumb *
On to my next move, pedal away like exercise bike
We're windin' so all night, yeah that hustle just right
Just right
Keep me deep like seafood
Pockets deep too, no time to lose
Stay in contact, it's back contact
If you out of line, get a little mad
When it's *, don't need no doggy bag
Just a reason to whoop your ass
Been smooth, get em' X like Mac, baby shoes
That route, no truth in things
Boom kickin', get em' replaced
She give me space, I'll catch a bullet in the face
Gangsters ride as hustlers push us
What you know about the South End, bitch?
Gangsters ride as hustlers push us
I came through in the back
Got a black rag hangin' out of the back of my black pants
I'm a panther on the prowl
I'm crookin' to chew my brain
Position my paranormal activity every day
Look at me, I'm a savage, I'm white but I blaze
No cattle, yo, rattle my beefs in yo brain
You can take it or leave it to be, but frontin' on the game
Steady cockin' the heater and makin' sure that I aim
Throw your brain, maintain, on some catalyst *
All frown, soon your sun shines upside down
You just sound southbound, nowhere else to crown
Why even bother writin', I'm a freestyle clown
I'm it, bitch, ain't even gotta exist
Spiffy moves like a windmill

Through a solar eclipse
Pressure me, you in doubt, eventually figure out
Most need to be a greatest, no idea's the route
You cryin', pal, bitch, you get smacked with a milli
Deuce, deuce in the ride, a blunt or a filly
Don't spill my drink, give me time to think
Good golly, Miss Molly, they in the sink
Wah!
*