(feat. Killa Tay)



Uh uh (Geah, geah, geah, geah)

Yeah yeah (Wha wha)

Dogg Paw Records (Uh uh)

G.L.P. Records (Geah, geah, geah, geah)

Uh uh, check it out, check it out

Tha Gamblaz (D-1-8) What?



[JT the Bigga Figga]

We low-key - city streets, we on the under

Bring thunder, bomb beats for hot summers

We at this, in and out just like a robbery

Break bread, lay down slow because ya bother me

Stressed out, ghetto shots the metal hot

When the cats get to buckin and shit, peep the pot

Camoflauge in the buckets we ride, get up inside

On the other side, now we collide, it's Westside

Certified, I make it happen for my real folks

Representin Fillmoe, we make them hits

All the way to the L.B., cuz them niggaz tell me

They be gettin they grits



[Chorus x2: JT]

We put it down for the real folks

L.B. to Fillmoe - you can't fuck with this!

And when it come to the tips

Westcoast represent y'all - all we make is hits!



[Daz Dillinger]

I'm lookin ghetto fab, coordinated with some G shit to bang

Twenty cents on the hang, ain't a fuckin thang

The Bigga Figga Dilli ride the city gettin greedy

Ohh what a pity, smokin sweets and switchin Philly's

I get off the chain, get loose sip juice

On my way get down 'fore I start to produce

I need a valet my frame of mind is madly

Ohh how can I be happy when the feds tryna jack me

They try to get at me and they try to get me

Nothin but G's is ridin with me, all the bullshit can miss me

Westside, Eastside, we ride slide and die

For the cause baby girl, be fuckin her out of her drawers

She know me from back in the days, I get the cabbage

Dat Nigga Daz gots to have it, haha!

I'm a motherfuckin hustler, busts on busters

Fuck all y'all suckers and ride on motherfuckers



[Hook x2: JT]



[JT the Bigga Figga]

Man it's more like nuttin to lose, and a lot for me to gain on

I stayed back waitin my turn and got my game on (Game on)

We're not a spotlight, shine every rhyme

Maybe only cuz that's how us niggaz came on

I'm in the same zone of the twilight, livin the high life

And I gotta rhyme tight, man cuz all my fuckin fans

I'm puffin on grams, until a niggaz nearly can't see

For tape three I can't come weak, I'm at my peak

Do a hundred thou a week, through the streets

Got us ready to start collectin 'fetti, swing cars like Andretti

Heavy chips that Tha Gamblaz flip, when we hit

Like the '89 quake, that shook the fuckin Bay

Day to day is what I'm talkin 'bout, who the fuckin tightest?

You know about Tha Gamblaz, G.L.P., Frisco's Finest

Diamond cut records and beats, nuttin sweet

When I speak, only represent for the elite

We play for keeps, fast cars and jeeps, for all my peeps

Clearin up the Billboard charts, on a single sweep

No retreat, I keep the heat, waitin in my notebook

50 bar rhymes with no hooks



[Killa Tay]

They say my mind's in the sky cuz I'm high as a kite

I see the devils run for cover when my people unite

Tryna get my thug life right, and change the way we all think

Finally found the missing link (What is it?)

God is real, I felt the touch

No way to ignore that I recognize

Ain't no money from the third eye, so why lie?

Expectations sky high, then we all die, but the game won't change

So many curses, so many hearses, stuck in my brain

I know the way God works, took me 28 years

To finally face all fears and see my real life clear

I near thug heaven pledgin allegiance to my livin

And the feds can't hate, they know my talent's God-givin

Never been to prison, I'm supernatural for real

Remainin military minded, with a passion to kill

So if the revolution pop off, I'm ready and deadly

I dare any one of you peckerwoods to play with my 'fetti

So feel the fury flow, the planet revolves around me

And now I'm thuggin more than sucker-free

I pray for strength to keep my mind right

Eternal limelight, still in my sight

But now I see straight, my B.G.'s can't re-late

Cuz I'm high-powered...