Lyrics

Yo, this Havoc the Mouthpiece from the S.C.C I only got three words to say South - Central - Madness Hoo-ridin in the Central, yeah, the gangsters mob for life The Cartel's gonna roll the dice One time for the mind of the niggas strollin' deep Watch your back, I'm about to creep It's not Compton, it's South Central like a bitch Another gee with the gaffle gangsta pitch If your game is weak, you speak straight punk If funk jump you're soft and try to punk Cause I'ma hit you in the face with it I got a posse of crews to serve blues if you fuck with it Yo, the Prodeje spoke and choke, you joked Who croaked when the gunsmoke broke, you're half-loc'ed But I'ma break it down for those who know Be real when you claim South Central 'Cause on the Central tip you get pistol-whipped And if the pistol slip, you get Uzi-clipped 211's in progress Becomes a 187 if a sucker tries to fess Kaos, Gripp, the Ringleader here to rip shit And when I'm grippin' the mic is when I flip shit It's not Compton, what's up punk, it's South Central A crime wave of gangster-made criminals Liftin' a skit to your dome, I'm relentless, shit Cock the nine and laugh when I blast this shit 'Cause your ass got tossed By the mafia king, you were hung by the boss Havikk, my felonous pitch will lynch a bitch Smoke and choke any punk on a off-stroke 'Cause I provide the funk and it's homicide Suckers collide with my drum and get hung Gas'll swarm and alarm and drop a storm of death Eat your brain and watch your ass melt In the Central I roam, I'm close to home The danger zone, motherfucka, get your head flown By a loc, I'ma smoke, I'm no joke Drop the floor on a noose and watch your ass choke Feel the lyrics that blow, coward, detonate Hide your dome, the Cartel will penetrate Your damn cranium, punk, who's the baddest? You can't escape the South Central Madness Yo, this is the hype of all hypes Hype-it-up track for '92 For South Central Cold droppin' gangsta Yo, I got a gat, I'm tryin to deal with the madness Mexican gangsta, born with a badness So I drink forties like a wino And let me get it straight, don't give a fuck about a five-o 'Cause I live on the edge like every nigga A nine for a nine, get fly with a trigger And man, I gat, so I guess I'm a rider Bitches know I'm paid, so I guess that's why they strive for I sling like the Cartel bang Scorpio is bailin' but you ain't gonna hang My AK is fully automatic If you wanna live, chump, then don't get dramatic 'Cause the Jel's got a goddamn Mafia Wanna scrap, punk? Ace'll be droppin' ya When we're done you're gonna be feelin' blue Sleepin' on the floor like a muthafuckin fool Just because you thought you that crazy Try to rush hard but your shit couldn't phase me 'Cause I'm more than a brother that's mental I'm the one Mexican that roam South Central A city with so much credential Livin' in Central is strictly all mental Coincidental, let me tell you what I'm into Gamin' on the niggas who think they can step to A pretty, seditty lady from the city Looks are deceiving but my attitude is shitty And don't try to step to me quick 'Cause a 9mm in your mouth I will stick And make you lick it like a popsicle Hear the blast, and I see your blood trickle Yeah, exactly what I figured A bitch-made nigga that's scared to pull a trigger On a lady that's got you feelin' smaller Shorter than short, I'm the lady shot caller The boss that 24 is dissin' Any muthafucka who think they can fade this S.C.C. is comin out slayin' It's not a gang when no Uzi is sprayin' A lady that's pullin' all the cards I smoke ya and leave your dead with your dick on hard Malibu beaches and every day sunshine Bullshit - my city's full of one-time Rollin' on a hunt for they favorite toy Any gangsta nigga wearin' khakis or Curduroys House shoes or a pair of Nike And you talkin' 'bout you wanna come and sight-see? Fool, you better stay where you're at and keep your health 'Cause where I'm from every nigga's for hisself Or his set with the vest and a Tec So if you've never been here, then channel 7 is your best bet Me, I was raised in Watts after the riots So I was taught: See the head, fly it And one-time, I know they name and they faces Because I see them on a everyday basis Niggas claim hard cause of a warrant or a bounty Others try to claim L.A. from Orange County But ain't even close to claim hard knocks That's why they dyin' of a overdose of buckshots I can't take it, my mic, somebody grab this And keep flowin' to the South Central Madness For all you muthafuckas out there Don't know how we livin' in South Central Fuck y'all! (Shit, goddamn Get off those ass and jam!) (Shit, goddamn) Westside, hoo-ride, let me kick a pimpin' slide Weak niggas straight trip when I ride Young Wes Word trippin' on another flow And yeah nigga, I still got my 44 In the front seat tryin' to fuck with me? And get sprayed, fool, this the S.C In the house, puttin' niggas' heads out Workin em out, trippin' em out without a doubt And still shovin' big dick in your whole mouth Wes Word take a grip on a flow And yo, right after this I get to fuck yo ho Young nigga, don't sweat that 'Cause if you do, Andy Mac get the muthafuckin' AK strapped On your back with a goddamn slug in your head Now you know the O.G. meaning of 'dead' And right after I proved the point Kick back and smoke a fat joint Of green funky Indo Then kick back and let a fine ho Suck my dick, bitch trick, when I say so Westside, killin' up niggaroes
Writer(s): Roger Troutman, Larry Troutman, Austin Patterson, Cary Calvin, Winston Wendell, Wesley Dawson, Tiffany Thompson, Marlowe Bates, Brian West, Richard Ascencio Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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