Lyrics

Awawaw, awawaw, awawaw, awawaw (*Laughter*) Yeah, we be that sick, sick-Ass-Clique Called Above The Law, right back at you (*Laughter*) Yeah, ugh, ugh, yeah, yeah, yeah Beatin' down your block, checkin' in your spot Like I said before we do our thing from L.A. to Oaktown Pomona style, yeah, so check it, I'mma bust it off like this Nineteen ninety fry, back in your mothafuckin' face Nigga step back before I catch a case Yeah, I'm on the chase for the paper A decade deep into the game and I'mma break you Guarantee to take you, to the next level Yeah, and I'm bound still slam to the flow, trick ho Yo, so nigga what that A.T.L like, they can't see me When the nigga passed the Mic, check this I'm comin' up out the mist like Romadeem With nine full it up with the Infrared beam Yeah, I represent that Westcoast down For them niggas on the streets and in the Penthouse So, put your stress up cause we're gettin' bomb tonight And if you feel me, nigga that's right Yo, we make the hood-rats yell out Yo, that's the? will your punked out nigga pick it out Because we be the original undisputed ones That make more hits then humble county growth green You know what I mean, ha ha, ugh, yeah When I run up in your spot, you don't want to see me When I'm beatin' down the block, you don't want to see me When your bitches on my jock, you don't want to see me Come trippin' in my spot, you don't want to see me Cause I'mma player, player, aww, I'mma gangster, gangster Ugh, it's like bam bam, bambam, bam bam, bambam Damn it feels good to see people up on it Ugh, it's like bam bam, bambam, bam bam, bambam, yeah We dwell in level, my kinfolk peep me, to the real Homie Diomands last forever, and troops stay together If it be that way, then we'll drink Cartier The Low-riderin' niggas that'll get your ass to Alazhay I'm in it, gotherin' Pimp Clinic, they're partyin' to me baby Did a lick with jack move, now we hell of shady Just heard about pervin' as we bounced to the Bay And we still servin' yay, the old fashion way Pomona is the house, check it out South Central is the house, without doubt, we turn it out Crimin-als, hustlers pay us now All we wanna do is flip a chicken and a half of cow Yeah, we're ready to kick the monster Jam And we're on the West, and all the rest of y'all got the script So back up with all that bullshit y'all be woofin' Cause y'all be curb servin' and them T's we be pushin' I'mma pimp when it comes to them tracks I got them twistin' hoes and bomb bitches triple in my sack Now, quite triple in Mercedes have released them in '96 see with Caddillacs Yeah, that's how we do it in the nine Fever Floss mode, yeah, you know, ugh When I run up in your spot, you don't want to see me When I'm beatin' down your block, you don't want to see me If your bitches on my jock, you don't want to see me I be trippin' down my spot, cause you don't want to see me Cause I'mma player, player, aww, I'mma gangster, gangster Ugh, it's like bam bam, bambam, bam bam, bambam It's like bam bam, bambam, bam bam, bambam, ugh
Writer(s): Michael Gulley Kevin, Gregory Frenard Hutchison Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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