West Coast Roll

II do it for the children
But I pray for the gangstas
Papa Smurf, Dookie Blue
Dresta the Gangsta
BG Knocc Out
Cats on crill
Don’t trip
Who you want to
See me Knocc Out?

I’m just as nutty as the east side get
I’m west coast banging on some
East side shit
Yeah
They done fucked up
And let me get in
They owe you loco
You just did 10
I never been the type to gripe
But I’m ripe like a grape
Ask pipe to snipe
They hating on my
G bag ground
It’s frustrating
They never seem to G
Back down

I do evil type things
To my enemies
Our central Watts
And real Compton City Gs
Lil E, G Malone, Young Hootie
These my niggas
I’m the only one truly

I got a truck so clean
It’ll break up your manners
That Chrome automatic
Got a nigga thinking about marriage
I’m hub rich red greed hundred
See what the switch is
Mr. James Bond nigga
I don’t fear no missions
Hear no bitches
I say what up nigga
Getting my benjamins
Low key hold key
On a scooter
Nigga I move watts
Like Jacob the jeweler

Gucci ski mask
Chasing my moolah
Big lead that
Will erase an intruder
All of my whips
Got the four walls
Grills rose gold
On the door handle
Box around the steering wheel
I keep a bad bitch
Four steel
I go hard bitches
Call me Mike Tyson
Bitch dis the Airport G’s
The block chef
Mister Chef Boy Ardee

You like the pawn
On the chessboard
Unless you going out for Kong
What you pounding
On your chest for
I spit text
When the text come checks
You’re a six door
In the poor house next door

This motherfucker
Going to sniffing up coke
Come fuck around and
Save the line
So won’t you double up and
Pitch man
Shit my kid
Is on consignment
My killers still sniffing this
I treat niggas
Like a syphilis
See pipe, pipe, pipe
Gonna steal something serious
My plump niggas spill
Something in the Spirowits
A head shot
Will make you spill your wits
The four fifth will make you pirouette
See y’all don’t want problems
Point blank period

Me I F or Die
Point blank period

Y’all down Watts
I don’t think y’all
Are hearing it

It’s all about buns and guns
Killers and we cold banging
West side Comp town nigga
Fuck with you
Claiming the Spider Loc
Coasting in the '62
Chevy ex car felon

Weapons and they do bury
Glocks, 9s, Ks, M16s, car beams
See me brandishing the weapons
Stay out my way

Cause you don’t know
What I won’t or
I will do
Enough if I wanna
Nigga i’ll kill you
Heated and i stay right
Piss up on your gravesite
We can get it cracking
At night or broad daylight
The site is on the trigger
BG for life
When it comes to
This hood shit
I’m a figure like
Jigger

I’m iller than the illest
Cause real killers walk the streets
From west to east
And all the real niggas feel us
This hot steel
Will melt the ice
In your grill
Determine more shit
I just say
I’m ice with the steel

Sony knew the deal
They were signing
The boss
Tone Lane on the real
I remind him of Moss
I’m built rich
On the flow
Fuck VIP
G the biggest big man since B.I.G
My butter spreading like germs
Nigga destiny says
I so so much time
Think I’m destined for hell

Nine damn times
Been arrested in jail
But I never been evicted
Never been addicted
Stone cold hustler
Go down for the K
Get my Moss gage on
And start pumping that base
Spend a couple C notes
Get to pumping the place
And a couple slick poots
Will get a pump in the face
Nigga any other word
Disrespecting the boss
It’s like making reservations
Up in Harrison Ross
Now I don’t need
Men afford
To get my point to see
I just need a 44 point blank
[GUNSHOTS]