Sounds of the Barrio (feat. Stomper & Big Lokote)

Broadcasting live from the crime lab It's Mr. Criminal, Lokote & Stomper, what? Reminiscing, about growing up in the varrio homie I remember growing up, it was a real hard task Got in a fight, you beat em down If not, then that was your ass And I'm not, just reminiscing just all off of the past These days these vatos don't scrap These days these vatos they blast A product of the varrio, with my back against the wall Pocket full of 8 balls, on the run from juvenile hall I remember like a splinter in the back of my mind Getting my hustle on daily, running from the one time Grab the pintura homie, let's start to mob Varrio Silverlake Trece, all the enemigas get crossed Smoking chronic in a circle, with the Wynos all deep Baby Huey, Shy Boy, Niño, Oso, Creepy and me Straight riding Sur siding, pistols all ready Found another vato hits the calles Now you hear the fucking siren In the year '98, I was fighting a case The same year my perro Shy Boy took the bala in the face Sounds of the varrio Shhh... listen, can you hear it? Walking through the cemetery Talking to the spirits In the varrio Where the homies roll deep Banging 24 hours a day, 7 days a week In the varrio Where the homies pack straps Vatos collapse for crossing the wrong side of the tracks In the varrio Listen up, in the varrio Taking it back, I was a youngster on the street A little vato serving heat, in the New Town street Kicking up much dust, a young gun with a mission Cooking up big dope, chopping up keys in the kitchen More bounce to the ounce, as I bounce with a ounce Watching my pockets get fat, still I'm fucking around A criminal minded muthafucka, so sick & corrupt Reminiscing of my homies as they get locked up And as the years went by, yeah I got caught up But now I'm fresh up out the county I ain't giving a fuck Fuck the world was my attitude, I had no hope Long nights on the calles, out there slanging my dope And every time I think of my homies, who passed away I pay respects to my homies & I visit their grave Packing a strap, watching my back Cause there was no peace, I lived a life of a G From the South East streets, and like that The haters come out to check my nuts And end up covered with white sheets & covered with guts From the slug I deliver, make em shake & shiver A blood spiller from the Nuevo Gang A real rat killer Sounds of the varrio Shhh... listen, can you hear it? Walking through the cemetery Talking to the spirits In the varrio Where the homies roll deep Banging 24 hours a day, 7 days a week In the varrio Where the homies pack straps Vatos collapse for crossing the wrong side of the tracks In the varrio Listen up, in the varrio In a primer'd muthafucking wagon (that's right) Going solo causing havoc Gave a fuck, ready to fucking ride right With the crazy veteranos and murder on my mind Knucklehead on the loose Shotgun (sup puto) ready to shoot Always hungry to earn some fucking stripes Flick me off puto, bullets fly Treinta dos still gang banging Pinche felon causing havoc East Side Cuatro Flats is lo que representó 44 hollows son las balas que te meto Fuck norteños from Arizona (south side) Big Lokote - Hi Power stomping on ya (leva) Lowrider show, fuck a snort hoe Ask anybody in case you don't know 2 against 1, you bitches couldn't hang Stomp your fucking brains Aquí para Southland Every day that goes by I get more fucking violent Catch you fucking slipping Leave you in eternal silence Sounds of the varrio Shhh... listen, can you hear it? Walking through the cemetery Talking to the spirits In the varrio Where the homies roll deep Banging 24 hours a day, 7 days a week In the varrio Where the homies pack straps Vatos collapse for crossing the wrong side of the tracks In the varrio Listen up, in the varrio