Rock The Party

[Intro]
Gang
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy

[Verse]
Please don't make me up the chop and blow a nigga down
Slide down, bet that nigga catch a hundred rounds
You a nerd-ass boy, nigga, look around
I have my young wild nigga put you in the ground
No stocks, big Glocks, tote K clips
When it's foe, we gon' blow, we gon' paint shit
Been knew your background, you's a ho bitch
I'll take that lil' strap, you won't do shit
I'm a eastside nigga, getting to the cash
Pull up on a nigga, leave a nigga laying in that grass
Go to jail but I don't really give a fuck
And if you snitching, have my bitch come and rough you up
Bitch at my pad, but you already know
If she not sucking dick, then that bitch gotta go
No lovey-dovey shit, 'cause I heard you was a ho
I just wanna fuck that bitch, I just used her for the throat
And I'm a up-top baby, I be quick to hit a lick
Bitches on my dick, now they wanna take a pic
Opps know my name 'cause I've been with that shits
So don't try to test me 'cause you can still meet the clip, bitch
I'm a Alabama nigga fucking with the Bay
Shout out my nigga Peezy, he be catchin' plays
And I'ma always be me, I won't ever change
Open fire on a nigga, make him feel that blaze
In the crest with lil' Deez, chillin', smokin' loud
Good trips to Oakland, come back with a pound
Get caught with big poles, we won't make a sound
We shoot to kill niggas, then swing back around
Drunk of Henny, so now I'm feeling like the shit
You won't catch me in the whip unless a .30 in that bitch
Let a ho suck the player, have 'em sit up in the den
Hit licks with no mask, it's just my blower in yo' crib
Mix the dope with my rich bro, finish out the pot
Way before I started rappin', I was known on the block
Big MACs and ARs, but I was mobbing with a Glock
Told gang "just hold on 'cause we gon' make it to the top"
Dog, how these niggas talkin', got 'em sounding like my kids
You know how I'm coming over dead presidents
Shot somes niggas, beat a case, we had to calm down again
All these niggas hate, I'm kinda feeling like they fans
Bitch, you know I'm the one that make it hot quick
Lately I been on my trap shit
Slow down with all of that rappin'
But still, you can catch me in traffic
Twelve come, I know where to stash it
Know I'm still ridin' with a ratchet
In the Bentley, know they praying that I crash it
Niggas fake, broke, ain't never copped shit