Wit my homie

Bustin funky lyrics on this bitch

Killin foos on these tracks witout a hitch

Rollin in the coupe like the homie pac

Kickin in the hood homies all wearin locs

Dudes dodgin bullets everyday

Lord knows the hood be gon cray

Zay to ay follow me huh

Yall think i know the way

Other bitches leadin yall astray

Now runaway runaway

Or get yo punk ass slayed

WSCG runnin shit around the way

Wearin wrong colors might getchu fucked up

Yall bitches sitdown jus runner-ups

Now if my homies call yall bitches get ready

Cuz the shit we drop boutta get heavy

Like a fo five to the side

Notha double homicide

No glocks in the rari jus a k in the bucket

Cube an Eazy E always taught me jus fuck it

Blues down the way always said jus buss it

But we ain no punk bitch goin out like thotiana

Killin these foos like you swear im jeffrey dahma

Now i ain gang bangin but this shit real serious

Money an bitches got me feelin real curious

Wanna be an OG got bitches legs like chopstix

Throw me on a track an lemme rhyme a few topics

Throwin words on a beat got me feelin demonic

Words comin so smooth you could call me slick rick

Now the homie Thom comin in wit verses so sick

 

Crazy motherfuckers running the streets

The N A T to the E

No body can mess with him and me

We ain’t playing no messing around

We just blessing around our lyrics and tracks

We got our macs, In our back pocket

Just like our guns we got and lock it

Hardest motherfuckers

When people see us they fuck it

They ain’t too lucky

Homicidal maniacs

Brainiacs

Stop faking that

New school trash I know where it’s at

The old school It’s us fool

We bringing it back, us two I may not be hard as my brother Nate

But I’m not scared to say What others cannot, and do

All they is, “fuck you”

Lyricism I’m missing him

Homie be calling, in a fucking jiffy

Imma be there in a quicky, yes quickly

With the ickly, like a pickle, icky

Sticky, when I’m gone people gon’ miss me

Not just me, and the Nate too

So what’s up wit you

Dissing our collabs, snapping like “oh snap”

Breaking into our labs, trying to get our lyrics on pads

We kill them motherfuckers before they can get in

That’s our place where we chill

Shoot my bullet, you’ll wanna duck it

When we come around, you say fuck it

Oops recycled lyrics

Yet you still don’t fear it

You just hear it

Maybe it’s because rap now does this

It ain’t fit to live

Cause with me and Nate, you get dissed to bits

Are you hearing this?

You wont be missed