I put the woop in the woop like my DLB's All I know is VNG's and FTB's I ran phase back to back, that's on STB And if you claimin' you a blood, shit, you better know meīig homie gave me a gun and said It better be empty I was eleven years old with a motha'fuckin' fifty I got love for certain niggas, I've been doing this since knee high Nehi And you ain't a real blood if you didn't bang at the beehive 'Cause when it come to this been, I'm a monster to your leaf You can do a whole damu documentary on just me Call it The Life of a Hundred Percent Real Whooper They did it for the grams, moves and the hush Gah damn I won't stop being a blood to gangland To my dope then kicked in locked up in a strange land So when they be like: slick, why we ain't see you on TV or nothin'? Shit, I'm still tryin' get off the gang injunction Lowkey is on drop, give a fuck bout whatcho mama When it's on, it's on, pop it like a bottle of patron Then lay back with a bitch, man this is westside Jay 3-0 fifth No gimmicks, God damn Is anybody killing us, that's for anybody nigga Mainline, waistside, westside nigga Fuck peace, this for Crenshaw kings Suckin' out niggas, fuck is ya'll mean? Get out the way yo, get out the way yo That nigga duke just moved a house in yayo And you know I keep gunners on the payroll I even fucked with Mitchy Slick down in Daygo Young General these niggas gotta spray for You Fuck around and catch 20 out this Range Ro' Mane that beef shit is what a nigga made for I open fire on her open mouth, case closed Came in this bitch with Chuck Taylor's screaming fuck haters Bad bitch I'ma fuck later, tryna touch paper In a 6 tray rag going brazy up the ave What I'm drinking got me thinking, nigga maybe I should iron out my I Know your baby never hurt nobody But he got his ass smoked at that Mustard party OG Blood, everybody know me When I came in with the little homies, Skeme!
Maybe I should iron out my flag Maybe I should put another crease in it Maybe I should iron out my flag If you gang banging who you beefing with?