(feat. Mississippi Mike, San Quinn)



[Verse 1: San Quinn]

Bust like a AK everybody make way

Doin' this the ya way down to a lay way 

No cake, on a chase, on a case, anyplace

Still here many rates one shot all it takes

Ballin with the tapes, thought it was a case

Let's investigate, how can one crew carry all this weight

Stop, drop, get mopped, pop they all watch

We shut down shop, hardcore and hot

We were warned a lot and still swarm the spot

We want spotlight if we perform or not

GL, 2001, even though we only 3 buy a house for my son



[Verse 2: JT The Bigga Figga]

Welcome to the West Coast show we got flow

For the dough we're willing to store 

You wanna flow didn't know

Seen as down for the pounds they boastin 

Three wheel motion we coastin, toastin 

Dime piece with crushed ice

Project life ain't nice with three strikes

And the vice, keep you on the run from the streets 

When they kickin in yo mama's house lookin for the heat

Complete, shit ain't sweet we got beef

On the street, uno deep we on feet

Straight treat, wonderin why no reply

Souljah rag cover my eye, we too fly



[Verse 3: Mississippi Mike]

From a small town, Mississippi 

City of lights, seen bitches smoke dope

Sell they own to pay the rent

Like a matchbox can spread my wings 

Niggaz be tryin to ball 'till they fall

But this town is too small

Gotta relocate them dope spots be hot

And in my residents be full of dead presidents 

My occupation be gang related

Try to stay motivated

Addicted to chronic smoke and movin keys no joke

A time to kill but feel another season to heal

But I can't tell the system has failed 

Sweeter jail, got me under the spell

Catchin tail, and dropped in this devil playground

Don't frown, cuz niggaz from C-Town get down

Women don't frown, I'm huntin mils

Still I'm on a paper chase

Won't stop until I made a million 

I see ya mama pop 'em papa maybe

Black sheep on my throne, I hold in my groan

Sometimes I feel like waitin 'till their gone