So Southside or *, homeboys, that's right
Puttin' it down for the Southside of California
A little Roland Wanchon, what's it more?
Southside of California
Where this rapper will run up on ya
If he really need you, can't phase me
Homeboy think he'll really get crazy
Pete's game is the killer from the Southside
And when I put it down, I put it down for the grand prize
Snatchin' on any buster I see
And when he hits my sound, motherfuckers on me
I gotta take him out wide, cause there's nothing to discuss
Rollin' Heights, California, where I'm known to bust
Because I really don't give a *, cause killing's up in my blood
I'm blastin' the motherfuckers cause I'm down for my hood
I'm with the blackstrap cop in the back, ready to attack blast
I'm pullin' my trigger multiple times fast
That's how it is when you live like a G
I'm from the SGV, I'm puttin' this down for the Su-13
It's the focus, better look, it's the gang, not the show
I'm runnin' through your hood just to let you authors know
You ain't controllin' the streets, so where you from?
Cause I don't see none of your homies out on the block
Where you from?
Southside, California, where the strap will run up on ya
If you really think you can faze me
Oh boy, things can really get crazy
Southside, California, where the strap will run up on ya
If you really think you can faze me
Oh boy, things can really get crazy
Nibbles, one, two, three, boom, five to the six
Mothels rappin' bullshit, softer than the soggy bullet tricks
Talkin' bout straps and guns, but they never seen one
Take this gangsta * for granted
When we're in the hood, we're in the hood
When we see them, they run
Wearin' locs and penitents and creased up pants
But when it comes down to it, they down for that murderous dance
You got knives on your chest, you got guns in your verse
How come you didn't put that * right?
Put you up in the hearse
Rappin' bout the fuckin' players on the work that you did
When it comes to the bottom, where'd you turn into a pussy kid?
The stripes that you earned, it's all a motherfuckin' fake
All the lies that you told, it's your life on the tape
The first sweat that you seen was when I put it in your face
Beggin' for a ghetto pass, I had to put you in your place
All those rappin' fake *, so what you fake?
I'm a dick, you ain't a motherfuckin' man
You sit down where you fuckin' piss, you little bitch
Southside, California
Where this rap will run up on ya
If you really think you can faze me
Oh boy, things can really get crazy
Southside, California
Where this rap will run up on ya
If you really think you can faze me
Oh boy, things can really get crazy
Bottle bangin' on record, just gotta have a hand
Me bein' knuckles, man, I'm wicked in demand
Some bottles wrapped in * like you're ready to kill
When it really comes, I do it, all of a sudden they wanna chill
Now what's the deal? Because I'm ready to ride
I dip and glide, with fuckin' pistols on the side
You might think that I rap, but I just speak my life
I get busy to the beat and tell you a thing in my life
You might think that it's fake, but homie, it's real
If you talk down on my name, I'ma * up your fuckin' grill
Total toe blow for blow, I'ma show you my gang
Either way, homeboy, you're gettin' dropped on my contacts
So go ahead and rap, but be careful of what you say
Cause are you really gonna come out on the streets and play?
I don't think that you will
Cut it out, cause no one ever witnessed all that * you talkin' bout
Southside California, where the strap will run up on ya
If you really think you can faze me, homeboy, things can really get crazy
Southside California, where the strap will run up on ya
If you really think you can faze me, homeboy, things can really get crazy
Ha, see, moan, that's right, that's a motherfuckin' knuckles
Southsiders, homie, puttin' it down for all the souvenirs
Ha-ha, yeah, you run off, ese, things can get really fuckin' crazy