Little Blue Devil

[Intro: Cixx Pac x5]:
Little Blue Devil chantin' that Ouija
Nigga creepin' on them Slobs like an apache

[Verse 1: Cixx Pac]:
Yeah, hahahahahahahaha, Watts Up
Now as I sit bacc meditatin', gazin' at a full moon
You feel the mark of the beast when I enter the room
A known felon, steady bellin', chuccin' up C's
A nigga straight outta Watts, blue'd down with the Chucc T's
C-I-X is the name that I claim
Eastside (?) Town Franklin Square Crip Gang
Neighborhood, understood and it's like that
Cross out my teeth and I'm mashin' with a rubber jacc
And when I'm mobbin' I'm knowin' that you guessin'
Do this nigga still got that Smith n Wesson?
But try your lucc, cross my path and get stucc
See they call me King Saten 'cause I gives a mad fucc
A Blue Devil on the prowl for blood
I don't blazе so I gots to face, showin' 'em no love
Catchin' thеm creepin' for thinkin' I was slippin'
Jokes on you my nigga now I'm Grip Reapin' (Hahahahaha)
And if you wonder how I'm puttin' it down
Just come to Watts and that's the Bigg Cixx Pac, King of the Underground

[Verse 2: Young T-C]:
Crippin', nigga, who's got the nine in my holster?
Blue Devil on my shoulder and it turned me to a Locsta
Saggin', blue raggin', doin' murders in my mask and
Rode through Slob hood, jump out so I can blast 'em (Booyah!)
Now ask 'em, who's next to flex with the YLC's?
Pullin' them triggas, gettin' bigger with my LPB
Testin' me, we gon' see a Slob RIP
Domed with the chrome for fuccin' with Young T-C
Would I, should I, kill for the hood
Paccin' pistols in my (?) and I'm up to no good
Dumpin' the birds I could, and I like a page I just flipped
Slappin' niggas with my pistol 'cause I'm real with this bullshit
Pullin' the trigga quicc, that's on Crip I blast
Catchin' 2 to the chest as I rip yo' ass

[Verse 3: Koollay]:
Hand me the strap, watch how fast I peel his cap
Niggas like you, I'm quicc to doin' that
You're fuccin' with a Franklin, straight out the jailhouse
That wouldn't hesitate to put a strap in a Slob mouf
Haven't seen a new year on a out since '88
All I thought about was weights, and hittin' the gates
Now I'm on a outing, a Crip with a mad grip
Wishin' that a Slob-ass nigga would trip
So bacc the fucc up, when I roll I'm G'd up
Brains and cascade, twistin' the weed up

[Verse 4: Baby Half Dead]:
The night time's, the right time's to blow a mothafucca mind
Out of the skull with this mothafuccin' TEC-9
Toughline bullets came in bacc to bacc
Puttin' Slobs in they bacc, y'all call yourselves some killers but y'all ain't all that
You ain't across the room, Franklin Crip and got bucced (Booyah, booyah, booyah!)
And now you gettin' carried by Cixx in your blacc chuccs
And I don't feel no love for your family, see
That's how it is when you dealin' with a Watts L-O to the C
I'm goin' through the depths of Hell where the F dwell
And all these devils wanna throw a nigga in a cell
I got no time for no mothafuccin' time
I rather get paid than free my mothafuccin' nine
So when the pigs try to locc me up for some dirt
I'm throwin' in a fresh clip and puttin' in some mo' work

[Verse 5: Cixx Pac]:
Now as I creep like a crocodile, nigga, goin' buccwild
Death strugglin' makes me a mental child
Keep 'em a game tight strap with a automatic
You wanna be prepared to die, 'cause I might panic
Nigga, 'cause I'm creepin' so ain't no need for trippin'
I thought you knew my heart pump blue, don't get it twisted
You better know this alone, when you see one
You might be BIG but you ain't bigger than my shotgun
Mobbin' through the F, with weed on my breath
I got a bottle of Cisco drinkin' it by my damn self
Little Blue Devil bellin' through the darkside
Nigga mobbin' too deep, me and my TEC-9
It ain't no jokin' around 'cause I ain't playin'
You better recognize before yo' hood gets sprayed again

[Outro]
ALRIGHT, CUZ, DAMN!