Twisted Insane - Gangbang Swang lyrics

[Verse 1] Yeah Yea yea, Gold datins Low pros I'm talkin' 16 switches on the low low Oh, there I go Yeah I'm a G How many licks do it take to hit the back buckle only three Pablo, Esko go on my metro Got the complexion now my connection's Petro And if he ever out I hear wed-o Cause he got the wet-o and the heavy metal Chitty bang bang where they g**n When they slang caine Where the tray swang In the k-flang That's why I'm runnin sh** One in the tip Gun in the hip Any one of these n***as trip I go harder than a pain Do em like Shaq do guards in a pain When that Thompson go off, they know it's beef When their arms blow off to the middle of the street [Chorus] You see the fresh tats You see the big chain Get in the game stop watchin from the side man We in the fast lane Never slowin down We got ahead trump, so you never gainin ground You can talk your sh** You can blog your sh** But stay out the booth, let the real mothaf**as spit And I'ma say this one more time Next talkin that I do is through the barrel of my nine [Verse 2] Bumpin draggin Levi's saggin Calico's spit flames like a fire-breathin dragon Get off the wagon f** all the naggin I'm from southeast San Diego where my n***as flame flaggin Cowards talk slick With nouns and verbs Yeah they never bust a uie and bang they datas on the curb Smoke a little pot Drink a lot of patron And I'm comfortable in any city's gangsta zone My rep is full blown you 36 in a BG I'm a boy in the hood like my name was EZ Got plugs on d** or whatever you like Got green, got pills, got soft, got white And I can make a deal seem so appealin, Get you high enough make you wanna dance on the ceilin But if you snitch on me, n***a you know it's beef, When your arms and legs blowed off in the middle of the street [Chorus] The other day The homie took mine from the waist Up in the wrong place standin with a wife beater and a .38 With a perm lookin like Samuel L. and Jackie Brown Wavin a pistol around "Everybody get the f** down!" But don't be speakin about this G sh** if you ain't with it n***a Walkin the street without packin your heat homie you needs to quit it n***a sh** I was a little n***a watchin big homies pull the triggas with tha And to get sick on these mothaf**as off the rooftop I watched and hit ya Everybody's off that g**n swang Then hit the corner n***a gotta fill up on the marijuana n***a Two in doin too many those muchos on the streets takin that wakin that's happenin D Then blame it on the rapper with the guts and crack in the back of the seats Yeah right never ran from a fight Hit n***as with the left and right n***as pull guns on the ones they want to get slumped with the nighty-night Now Compton go off, then they know it's beef When they arms blow off to the middle of the street yeah