[Chorus x2]

There was a 187 on 24th Street

There was a 187 on 24th Street

Did you know there was a 187 on 24th Street

See you can get yo mind tore up fuckin wit us, we let straps bust



[Brother Lynch]

21st Street, 24th and 29th Florinreau to Metiview just to say a few

Every night I used to walk down the street drunk with a bottle and my strap

Cuz block niggas don't sock niggas they shoot niggas in the back

While you ain't lookin, yo livin get tooken, run up in yo living room

With choppers tryin to take out yo poppers, it's a fucked up interlude

I was only 17 with a dream in a scheme 

Apparently the gangsters took me under, no wonder 

It must of been a gang bang thang and the slang caine game

Gotta maintain range on you roaches like dirty poachers

I may leave you in the game even if you broke shit

Cuz I don't give a fuck I put the quarter in the slot

And play the game until I see what I got, I let straps pop

If I got to cuz the streets is hot too so I pop fools

Never unsderstood em couldn't understand em and I'm not too

Down for half them bandits so I ran it the way I had to

Met him in the park after dark 

And it took less than seconds for the 9 to spark the park



[Chorus x2]



[Brother Lynch]

See it's drastic, put yo body all up in plastic

We drag shit to the river and deliver yo ass quick

We always bad kids didn't even like eachother that much

All we did was mean mug and put that 9 on the clutch

Niggas could get touched, we touchin em up like Gerry Curls

Every girl was trippin we ripped em to the levy wit him

Said he earl like Earl the Pearl don't miss to often in a coffin

Yeah that's your new world, we keep it poppin

Automatics be knockin Garden Block beats 

Cuz we the hardest knock on the streets

Jig CD's like rock on the streets

We ridin yo shit, cuzz and we lovin you for it

You can't ignore it it's that rip shit

That put you in the trunk half dead with yo wig split shit

Live that shit everyday, all day, every chance we get

And in the backyard we got pits that eat raw meat in tid bits

They just as Sicc I don't give a fuck put the quarter in the slot

And play the game until I see what I got, I let gats pop



[Chorus x2]



[Brother Lynch]

Come against me I look in yo face and I don't see nothin but hate

And even though you say you love me I'm still clinchin the weight

That's how it goes in this state where blue rags murder blue rags 

And who lags get body bagged in Mazarati bags zipped with toe tags

It's so bad, see I don't know who to trust

Last time I trusted a nigga he came out with some stuff

He was talkin shit about me, nigga and I didn't know what to do

So I keep that heat that'll eat like Cujo and that'll fold up ya crew

Like new clothes, I choose those niggas that carry 4-4's and do those

Things that'll put somethin cold up in yo toes

Ya whole body froze no matter you think I should kick it wit

I do it solo and that's it ... you trip



[Chorus x2]