Capo (Church Road)
Capo (Church Road)
Nines & SPESHILL
Nines
Nines & Fatz (ICB)
Nines
Nines & Maestro La Forge (UK)
Nines & Maestro La Forge (UK)
Nines
Nines & Streetz (ICB) & JMan
Nines
Nines & Church Road Soldiers
Nines
Skrapz & Fundz
Capo (Church Road)
[Verse 1: Nines]
CRS niggas we keep the guns cocked
And I don't fuck with them niggas, I rep one block
I rep 1 block, keep the gun cocked
And I don't fuck with them niggas, I rep one block
CRS niggas we keep them guns cocked
And I don't fuck with them niggas, I rep one block
I rep 1 block, keep the gun cocked
And I don't fuck with them niggas, I rep..Ahh
Sacked another worker for weighin up my grams wrong
Flyin birds, I ain't thinkin 'bout a rap song
In and out the trap house, hands on
Treat the yay all like an envelope, stamped on
My nine will leave a paigon in a hearse
My niggas whippin white, call it slavery in reverse
Nina are in my jeans
The industry be sleepin on my dreams
So I'm on the street dealin with the feens
It's been a week, I ain't wrote a [?] tweet
I've been in the street flyin birds, I ain't been to sleep
I just sold 20 bricks, I'm on a winning streak
And in my spare time I kill a beat
See the shine in my hand
We the Ice City gang
Fly to Milan or Dubai for a tan
Drivin in the whip, Glock in the stash
Violate the click will be on your block in a flash
You don't wanna see me on your block pedalin
I leave you in a box like a wedding ring
Fuck a punchline and a metaphor
My YGs in the frontline sellin dros'
Toaster in my lap
Weed and coke are in the trap
I spit great, these niggas sound mediocre when they rap
Me and Jazzy break down keys
I don't mean sweets when I stay round trees
It's Nines...
[Verse 2: Streetz]
Guess I'm back to square one
Had 2 choices, go straight but the square won
People lookin at me like I don't know what's best
Stylez died Cash lifed, all I know is stress
This white gyal will sell, she's a freak
Gold-diggers on niggas cuh they sell grease
You can look like a champion by next week
She moves rapid, could make her worth squad beat
[Verse 3: P Dubbz]
Fuck all these computer gangsters, tell em the game's over
Visions of 09, gettin brains in a Range Rover
They never knew the swag was off the Richter
Scale, we in hell
Nothin jail
Lookin at pictures
See more ass than pampers
Had more head than dandruff
And I never premeditate a gameplan
It's just a freestyle, but the style must be name brand
Gyals gyals
Who claim they run the world
But some of you don't deserve to run a mile
Let alone be a mum and give birth to a princess
And up to now with still man you're tryna impress
All color sticks for her lips
Your kid ain't really got shit
A wide selection of flicks
But nuttin's up in the fridge
Rob a man clockin your hips
Then you clockin, now you live
She got snitch him to get fucked
She don't wish him to get fit
That's why it's just spinnin round in a circle
Little Miss, growin up to be like her too
No disrespect to the real mothers doin their thing
Cause without you, mankind, we couldn't do a ting
That's why I give my mum a kiss every time I see her
Cause I know there's a lot of chicks that couldn't be her
Real real mother in this world
That's why nuff man don't have trust in gyals
[Verse 4: Fatz]
The code on the road is to move silent
Even though the feds know that I'm so violent
Straight Spartans, when we stampede [?] them
All the niggas chat, but they don't even leave the garden
My nigga Keyz dancin the ting, turn up
AKs in the ocean, forces gettin bun up
You don't wanna see me run up
Hoppin out the E-class
The tough job behind the wheel wearin a ski mask
'Member when I had the big ting, but the staircase
And I saw them niggas commin so I beat a bare face
My ambition is to get dough and tap women
I shoot niggas, and I ain't even been prison
You know it's pain when I tough the mic
Niggas say they shootin and but they never touch the right
Revenge is a must, I put my hands on the cross
I light a nigga up if your gang comes across
I swear
[Verse 5: Skates]
A whole heap of weed over half a line
Mastermind
Tight weed and a glass of wine
My future looks bright, fam I'm past my time
Cross the fine, dog I shine like the stars align
I'm on a major tip haters, so what you make of it?
Imma take a trip makin hits like it's way to flip
Callin someone fake don't make it real, can you relate to it?
We used to take a whip, make a bit
You can take your pick
I've had to spend weeks in the same clothes
Even had to spend weeks in the same Os
I get ads cuh the Ps in my chain froze
I ain't shallow but it's deep, that's how the game goes
Some dogs move like bitches
I just wan' a car and a coup like Tiches
Couple chicks will set up on my broom like witches
Wack rappers need to be removed like stitches
It's time that you clock me
I still pick myself up when I drop see
I go get her so they're never gonna stop G
I was on one too till I got free
Can't clock me, but look you know the time
But go before people hate cuh it's over, I ain't fake
You may [?] then I don't wanna know your kind
Tryna grow powers, no, I don't wanna know your dime
They say that I'm underrated
Understated
In a game I want to play with
Becomin basic
Love having forward hatred
[?] and rated
Alien on a spaceship
Done and displayed it
I've made it
Just for your favorite
Cause know the [?]
Hated if they don't rate it
Grab opportunities, I don't let a day slip
You lose pay quick
Waitin for a pay slip
Look, how did you sleep on me
Are you awake?, or you was waitin til the street on me
By that time someone coulda beat a heat on me
It's that deep, you just shoulda flang a beat on me
Whether I know you or not, don't speak of me
We beg you when I was cold with the heat on me
On Twitter they can't believe they cheekin me
Tweet tweet tweet tweet, I got a beak on me
Top the class, so I never get the merit for it
I got lines, but I never get the credit for it
See, the dumb fool that was metaphoric
You're apparent that I'll never get the treasure for it
[Verse 6: Fathead]
I'm talkin bare weed
You need a wheel-barrel
Cuh my nigga Nines worth 20 keys of ammo
That's a lot of ammo
Fatz clap ammo
Stut stut and if a sparrow talk to him with a arrow
They already know!
We're rollin 20 man deep
We're rollin 20 man deep
[Verse 7: Flyboy Tuff]
Yo, council estate bike ridin to school
No ball game, signs on the side of the wall
Then I made dough, press the code on my gate
Now the sign says don't dive in the pool
Grind some ore
Up in the spaceship, X5 pullin up, walkin to face it
Ring cloud air force strawberry laces
I've taught you the basics climb to your fall
Now that's why I ball
It's part of the work-rate
Rolex stature, that's what the word say
Titanic iceberg, mother of [?]
So fly like I should be in a birdcage
Birthdays, better than I ask for
Grey Goose, Red Bull more than a glass full
Pourin away champagne on the dance floor
Who said I can't but I'm switchin the weather
Makin it rain, better get your umbrella
Show room floor when my shit gets better
Copp a white M3, lipstick leather
Glued to the money call it Pritt-Stick Cheddar
LV's on my glass frames
Get money live life in the fast lanes
Flyboy but I think you missed the last plane
First-class game, come and keep up
I remember back when I used to be but
Now my Louis belt hold my DNG jeans up
See what
I live life on full throttle
Champagne campaign, yea we pop bottles
But it wasn't always this fun
No, I had a few shots so I couldn't miss one
Then I made money so I let my wrist count
Bought a nice iced kettle that will make your wrist numb
Made funds
Yea I turned snow into cream
My phone's now blowin with green
I was sellin the dream
Now I'm just swimmin in the money
Do you wanna come roam the stream?
Scene
True Religion jeans
Cocaine change
Shoppin in the cocaine Range
I been sittin on planes
Cause I like my seats a little higher
Got birds and the clothes fam, I keep it lookin flier
Tears in my eyes, Jheeze
[Verse 8: J Man]
Still on the roads on these cold streets
Walk us the other side, still man it's no Ps
Bare new niggas in this old beef
RIP Stylez, I hope one of them niggas goes sleep
Small to my chest [?]
I don't know what's next on store
Bare niggas wanna draw me out, I ain't a chest of drawers
Chillin with the Presi. in the White House
300 Spartans, then it's lights out
Busy trappin, I ain't gettin [?]
Cuh 2 months back I was jail house, I was gettin gym
And now my dogs are my associates
We suttin close, cuh doggy is appropriate
Focus on my work but I ain't gettin colleague
Word round town that them Church niggas gettin holied
Tightest screeches from the dingdong
Paigons try soundin it off, but it ain't a singsong
Who's shootin from the back of the car, they ain't King Kong
The AK make the car spin off, no Ping Pong
CRS Westwood Shutdown (Westwood Crib Session) was written by Flyboy Tuff & Fatz (ICB) & JMan & P.Dubbz & Nines.
CRS Westwood Shutdown (Westwood Crib Session) was produced by Soul Professa & Mike Zombie.
Nines released CRS Westwood Shutdown (Westwood Crib Session) on Fri Feb 15 2013.