调：D# minor
Verse 1
Hoodsta style
Dm
Cm
Am
The Re mix
West coast killin like that!
Verse 2
I bust 'em in they bowels
For this rag for mag,
bitch get shit bag
Watch me hit this fag with
this sack with this
'Till I die creep or cry mista
nice guy's dead
Is in hood to the heart and
his four seven to the head
Think you can scrap? I got scrap
But see it's only one thing,
And they ain't goin for none
Verse 3
of that
you know it's like fuck a career
I drink a beer to ya soul,
muthafucka rich roll
Hit you and ya man, you slipping
fuck up his stroll
'Cause, and that's just
how these hoodstas roll
Talking 'bout is he a blood
or is he creep?
Nigga I sock that faggot in
his big ass lip
Put a straight jacket on me, 'cause
I'm throwing a tantrum
And all the creeps across the world
y'all gone sing this anthem
Verse 4
True fat laces, true blue chucks
We Creeping 'till we die 'cause,
and I'll shoot you up
Cock the thirty eight from the G
homie used to shoot up
Verse 5
Bright red laces, flamed up chucks
It's Piru 'till we die blood,
and I'll shoot you up
Cock the thirty eight from the G
homie used to shoot up
Verse 6
laid
off ya shit change?
Shit ranged, hell now they bit game
Every time ya hit, bitch slang
Bit names, bustin' other niggas shit can
Verse 7
now the streets coming to get ya
It's over HOVA prepare
for your last thrill nigga
Was never a real nigga and know
you ain't tryin' to be
Dulo the throne of dynasty
Thinking your reigning?
unless you wit a film crew
Verse 8
Bleek nigga him too
I ain't impressed that you done wrote
your fuckin flunky some raps
But if Beanie is really a baboon then
you funky for that
But it ain't no dynasty dummy,
just ya flunky and a monkey
And a broad that look like a fuckin
recovering heron junky
Put a straight jacket on me dog,
I'm throwing a tantrum
And all my Bloods across the world
y'all gon sing this anthem
Verse 9
Bright red laces, flamed up chucks
It's Piru 'till we die blood,
and I'll shoot you up
Cock the thirty eight from the G
homie used to shoot up
Verse 10
True fat laces, true blue chucks
We Creeping 'till we die 'cause,
and I'll shoot you up
Cock the thirty eight from the G
homie used to shoot up
Verse 11
Dm
Am
Back in the day if I was 'caine 'cause
I would have been trippin'
Like ain't no half creepin'
When it comes to this C shit,
they gon' learn out here
I'll have all sharp,
C walkin' with his perm out here
Niggas bangin' the NY now,
'cause I don't knock it
This fool said he was a blood but had
his rag in the wrong pocket
Creeps where it on the left and
Pirus where it on the right
I'ma show you muthafuckas how
to slang 'caine right
How to keep them guns hot, and
aim them thangs right
Verse 12
the break beach spot
I'm smoking purple till my lungs
light great street watts
C walk on yo roof,
it's over before you hit the vocal booth
Watch out, I threw up the hood
and broke ya tooth
Put a straight jacket on me, 'cause
I'm throwin' a tantrum
And all the creeps around the world
y'all gone sing this anthem
Verse 13
True fat laces, true blue chucks
We Creeping 'till we die 'cause,
and I'll shoot you up
Cock the thirty eight from the G
homie used to shoot up
Verse 14
True fat laces, true blue chucks
We Creeping 'till we die 'cause,
and I'll shoot you up
Cock the thirty eight from the G
homie used to shoot up
Bitch! And you just lost!
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