A Nigga Jus’t Klownin’

Verse 1: Lil' Laniak II:

My name is Mister motherfuckin' Young Gangsta Lil' Laniak
The fool is the fact, that's puttin' the set on the map
I'm like the last but not least, NYG's not givin' a fuck
T-shirt, khakis and chucks, I strapped the bust
Drink buds in effect, no detest, check my muthafuckin' flow
And if you don't know now you know and findin' out about Figueroa
Finders in this, hide yo' niggas puttin' in work
I squeeze the dirt, hold down the turf and enemies I bust first
[?] from Figaro you better fly to them Lanes
Mr. Laniak, ML, goin' out with a bang
I hood hang, wall bang, straight hang and all that
Strapped kill a player for real rhymesayer for a dope track

Verse 2: Spyder:

Comin' back in the do', the 10-4 in Figueroa
Woop woop in the house, YG's with the flow
And the YG left flow that'll keep you in check
Hit you up with the set, and that's the face of death
West-Westside Inglewood, B-O-T-T-O-M-S
C to the M, G to the B 'til I put to rest
Yes it's [?] for the homie, I laugh for the dum-dums
Watch this tramped deuce hollow points, eat yo' ass like a bum
This lil' nigga got problems for real
I has no meaning to me, so I locks [?] steel
I don't give a fuck, I was raised that way
If you play with my paper, you fuck around and lay
Say, won't you buy a dime and don't make me act a fool
Fuckin' breakin' all the rules and this shit get cruel
You be in the daze all stuck, fucked up
For the M and the L, YGB I gotta give it up

Verse 3: Peanut II:

I'm in the house to grab the mic and form a fist to fuck it up
It ain't Braze but we rollin' I'm holdin' the strap to bust
T-shirt, khakis and chucks, is my everyday outfit
I'm bent lit and all that I bang it
I'm mostly KP, but I ain't smelly
Just call me Kapone, it's on, I'm on the mic off to the break of dawn
Hoes is swingin' off me, but I'm a gangsta to the heart though
We don't love them hoes and I'm puffin' on endo
Drinkin' drank so don't think you can fuck with me
I'm a gangsta with [?] so just back up me
I'm KP the YG, a young gangsta (BIATCH!)
On Figueroa Street, with my khakis straight creased
To the YG's in the pen, I gotta give it up
Woo woo (bust slugs!), now YG be P'd up
Lil' Hawk: Hell yeah, nigga, that's what the fuck I'm talkin' 'bout, nigga, M and the L, YG

Verse 4: B-Brazy:

Gangsta Braze in the caddy, biatch, everybody know me
Mighta get you dead homies just for bustin' out for fonky
I got the strap, gangsta raps, now who wants to scrap
Put up the back and take you to the curb, now take your nap
I got big dap from the homies quick to put in work
Quick to buck a hoochie-coochie and a miniskirt
I'm off that drank but don't think you won't get BOMBED on
The 109st Figueroa gangstas got them SQUABS, home
Now watch me get rowdy, watch me get brazy
Young Gangsta Blood by the name of B-Brazy
Pimp a hoe, smack a hoe, arm around a hoe, still
Lookin' dressed to kill, hop on a [?] Coup Deville's
Standing next to gills off the mothafuckin' cut
If you from the Westside, woo woo, give it up!

Verse 5: Lil' Hawk:

Now I'm just shakin' and breakin' and takin' off, once again it's me
It's that nigga Lil' Hawk Y MUTHAFUCKIN' G!
Hittin' you up with the B, capital C to the M the G
Everyday off the week when I bail through these streets (Suckas)
Dixon, Darby the L, block to the dime
Woolworth, P block, this Mafia on mine
On the 104th in Crenshaw, laid back in the cut
And I only fuck with the homies that be banged up, flamed up
A young ass G is what I be
All cherried out, hair fulla PT's
Is my chucks, kinda bloody for stompin' a nigga out
Dope fiend to your chin is what the fuck I'm talkin' 'bout
L-I-L H-A-W the K to the S-T-A
And, when I'm on the mic it's like anybody K
So now, you mothafuckas know wassup
M and the L, YG, and I gots to give it up