So Southside or *, homeboys, that's rightPuttin' it down for the Southside of CaliforniaA little Roland Wanchon, what's it more?Southside of CaliforniaWhere this rapper will run up on yaIf he really need you, can't phase meHomeboy think he'll really get crazyPete's game is the killer from the SouthsideAnd when I put it down, I put it down for the grand prizeSnatchin' on any buster I seeAnd when he hits my sound, motherfuckers on meI gotta take him out wide, cause there's nothing to discussRollin' Heights, California, where I'm known to bustBecause I really don't give a *, cause killing's up in my bloodI'm blastin' the motherfuckers cause I'm down for my hoodI'm with the blackstrap cop in the back, ready to attack blastI'm pullin' my trigger multiple times fastThat's how it is when you live like a GI'm from the SGV, I'm puttin' this down for the Su-13It's the focus, better look, it's the gang, not the showI'm runnin' through your hood just to let you authors knowYou ain't controllin' the streets, so where you from?Cause I don't see none of your homies out on the blockWhere you from?Southside, California, where the strap will run up on yaIf you really think you can faze meOh boy, things can really get crazySouthside, California, where the strap will run up on yaIf you really think you can faze meOh boy, things can really get crazyNibbles, one, two, three, boom, five to the sixMothels rappin' bullshit, softer than the soggy bullet tricksTalkin' bout straps and guns, but they never seen oneTake this gangsta * for grantedWhen we're in the hood, we're in the hoodWhen we see them, they runWearin' locs and penitents and creased up pantsBut when it comes down to it, they down for that murderous danceYou got knives on your chest, you got guns in your verseHow come you didn't put that * right?Put you up in the hearseRappin' bout the fuckin' players on the work that you didWhen it comes to the bottom, where'd you turn into a pussy kid?The stripes that you earned, it's all a motherfuckin' fakeAll the lies that you told, it's your life on the tapeThe first sweat that you seen was when I put it in your faceBeggin' for a ghetto pass, I had to put you in your placeAll those rappin' fake *, so what you fake?I'm a dick, you ain't a motherfuckin' manYou sit down where you fuckin' piss, you little bitchSouthside, CaliforniaWhere this rap will run up on yaIf you really think you can faze meOh boy, things can really get crazySouthside, CaliforniaWhere this rap will run up on yaIf you really think you can faze meOh boy, things can really get crazyBottle bangin' on record, just gotta have a handMe bein' knuckles, man, I'm wicked in demandSome bottles wrapped in * like you're ready to killWhen it really comes, I do it, all of a sudden they wanna chillNow what's the deal? Because I'm ready to rideI dip and glide, with fuckin' pistols on the sideYou might think that I rap, but I just speak my lifeI get busy to the beat and tell you a thing in my lifeYou might think that it's fake, but homie, it's realIf you talk down on my name, I'ma * up your fuckin' grillTotal toe blow for blow, I'ma show you my gangEither way, homeboy, you're gettin' dropped on my contactsSo go ahead and rap, but be careful of what you sayCause are you really gonna come out on the streets and play?I don't think that you willCut it out, cause no one ever witnessed all that * you talkin' boutSouthside California, where the strap will run up on yaIf you really think you can faze me, homeboy, things can really get crazySouthside California, where the strap will run up on yaIf you really think you can faze me, homeboy, things can really get crazyHa, see, moan, that's right, that's a motherfuckin' knucklesSouthsiders, homie, puttin' it down for all the souvenirsHa-ha, yeah, you run off, ese, things can get really fuckin' crazy