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Cross ’Em Out And Put A ’K

Westside Connection

Bow Down, 1996, İngilizce

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Brrrgh!
Ay!
Ay!
In about four seconds, a gangsta will begin to speak
Well it's the mad chickenhawk with the dirty lick style
Been pullin 211's ever since TaDow
It's ten million ways to die, choose it
Mack will hit the loop and loose it
Off this gang-bang music
Slaughter water got the room stunk
I smoke and make dough like Trump
Cookin' powder till they chunk, punk!
Straight off dust, nigga trust I'll bust
And cross 'em out and put a'K if they ain't down with us
It's off the hook, nigga, I'm a Westside crook, nigga
Put 40 motherfuckin' dollars on my books, nigga
I'm not a MC, I'm not a G
I mean I'm A-to-fuckin'-Z and everythang in between
Rappers like gangbangin', 'cause I'm in it to the fullest
And my hood ain't never dodging bullets
It's all about the Bloods and Crips, dogs and rips
Corners and dips, bitches and chips, nigga!
Do-do-do-do-do-do
What's this? My frickeler radar system detects busta B-I-itches on the premises
Niggas be dissin' on a down low
So now my motto's "Fuck every rapper from the East and the West Coast"
New School, Old School, I hate you motherfuckers
I'm steady plottin', wipin' my ass with your album covers
Cross 'em out and put a'K
Even on Sundays, nigga, to mothafuckin' holidays
Hey, I cross 'em out and put a 'K
Inglewoooood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A
Ay, I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewoooood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A
Ay, I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewoooood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A
Ay, I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewoooood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A
Goddamn nigga! This shit make me sick
All these West Coast cowards ridin' New York dick (Brrgh)
Bustas get sprayed wearin high-top fades
And Kangol's backwards with dark-ass shades
No switchblades, nigga, we shoot
That's how it is on the West when you're true to your roots (Haha)
So kill the action, punk, hoochie bitches clown
Nigga get your sag on and keep your pants legs down
Check it! Ho shut your mouth and get naked!
I'm Connected and ain't no bitches singin on this record
No R&B tracks, just niggas on wax
Kickin' facts with these gang-bang raps
Every nigga in the industry wanna rap with me
Like it's all good, you ain't from my hood
Nigga, I don't even like your shit, I don't like your crew
I'm true, you through, nigga fuck you!
Nigga get on, this shit is wack
Fuck that, I bust you in the can with a motherfuckin bumper jack
Spit on ya, shit on ya, when I get on ya, piss on ya
Going up in ya, fucking ya, cause I ain't lovin none of ya
And even female rappers are getting smacked
Stabbed in the titties and kicked in the back
'Cause I'm a westside Connection hoodsta
Far from a lover dishing nothing but bullets and dirty rubbers
Ay, I cross 'em out and put a 'K
Inglewoooood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A
Ay, I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewoooood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A
Ay, I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewoooood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A
Ay, I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewoooood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A
Brrrgh!
In about four seconds, a killa will begin to speak
Now you can cross out the bustas and snitches
B-Real and Ms. Muggs is like Hollywood bitches
From the niggas I know in the streets I run through
Swear to God, Bitch-Real it ain't one dog that know you (Not one)
So watch what you say, who ya talk about, you tweekin
And keep hogs out'cha mouth when ya bitch ass is speakin'
I'm sick wit it, cap at your dome till I hit it
This Westside Connection, Cypress know they can't fuck with it
Use to get kisses and hugs, now I'm servin' ya slugs
Fuck B-Real and Muggs, y'all niggas ain't no fuckin' thugs
To your surprise, everybody dies
From Columbian neck ties covered with flies
Ya fuckin' maggots, ya fuckin' faggots
I should alert you, every motherfucker that I know wanna hurt you
So when I pull my spray can to spray
I'm sprayin' C-H-K, all motherfuckin' day
I once knew this bitch by the name of Q-Tip
Who claim he got a problem with this gangsta shit
Behind closed doors, runnin' his mouth like a trick and
'Til this nigga by the name of Dub caught him slippin'
Tied his ass up and threw him in the trunk
Put a apple in his mouth then dug his ass out
About a month later they found his body stashed
In a trash bag with a cucumber in his ass
Ay, I cross 'em out and put a 'K
Inglewoooood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A
Ay, I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewoooood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A
Ay, I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewoooood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A
Ay, I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewoooood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A
Don't go chasin' waterfalls
Stick to them dicks and balls you used to
Punk ass motherfucka
Brrrrgh!

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