Video musical

Video musical

Créditos

ARTISTAS INTÉRPRETES
Jim Jones
Jim Jones
Canto
40 Cal
Canto
Hussein Fatal
Hussein Fatal
Canto
COMPOSICIÓN Y LETRA
Bruce Washington
Bruce Washington
Autoría
George Moore
George Moore
Autoría
Joseph Jones
Joseph Jones
Autoría
PRODUCCIÓN E INGENIERÍA
Carlisle Young
Carlisle Young
Ingeniería de mezcla
Duke Productions
Duke Productions
Producción
Jones Family Productions
Jones Family Productions
Producción

Letra

Rumors that were said, shot in cold blood
Two up in my head, can't talk phone bugged
Somebody want me dead, but I'm still flossin'
I rock my jewelry through the scurriest streets
I keep my ears to the streets
And I ain't scared of police
Lord knows that I got various beefs
So could you pray for the weak
You know the wolves prey on the sheep
So we hustle everyday of the week
That's why we fuck up all the paper we see
We hit the clubs, fuckin ladies for free
Getting drunk, off and hazin' the V
And every couple days we get sweeped
Around the clock we bumpin' and clickin'
You gotta watch cause when they come they be blitzin'
Now this is for my homies and my thugs
One million in the truck, and the chrome full of slugs (Fully Automatic!)
You fuckin phonies you'll get plugged (Boom!..Bang!)
I'm a ghetto **** for life
The streets is in my blood (DIPSET!)
Now this is for my homies and my thugs
One million in the truck, and the chrome full of sluts (Fully Automatic!)
You fuckin phonies you'll get plugged (Boom!..Bang!)
I'm a ghetto **** for life
The streets is in my blood (BYRDGANG!)
Ya **** dyin', while you other **** is hidin'
Might be strapped, but you runnin' and ain't ridin'
So I'm slidin' to the place down the hill
Where the homies is murda and when its poppin' down to kill
On the real
The only way a motherfucker try to survive
Is knowin' that he 'bout to die, and ride
I told Face he was the realest in the game
And he smiled and told me 'Pac was the realest that they came
In the jungle, I walk like I'm the king of the beasts
So when you duck huntin', keep movin' cause I'm swingin' the heat
I might go out of town, move fakin' is none of that
And never leave up out the hood, the way I can't come back
Fuck that
Hussein in the street game frame
Life is a struggle, so with the heat take aim
I'm ghetto, don't ever think I'm him its not me
Cuz I love this motherfucker like pills in a hot tea
Why ya act like I'm new to this?
Mack to the uzi clip
When it comes to beef, we all packed like Luis Rich
Battlin' is ludicrous, half of ya uterus
Matter fact, Jimmy, pass me the "Kufi List"
What you think **** got goons for?
The mass menace at ya door like a costume ball (hello)
My flow is like when you throw a 'Pac tune on
The only time you get tax is when you cop new 'gords, dog
I make it happen with no sarcasm
So it ain't the station wagon, when you see me dodge magnums (get it?)
If I don't hit you when the clip fills
Like the show off the blind date, ya know the fifth will
Break **** like big bills, when it peels
Sit still, shit's real, listen you a kid's meal
And I eat those, reload, heat blown
Keep those kilos, cause we go beast mode
Written by: Bruce Washington, George Moore, Joseph Jones
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