Crestside  It's tha Triple C
 Crestside  It's poppin' in tha Crestside
 Crestside  Livin' that pimp life
 Tryin' to get a pimp ride

 (Mac Mall)

 Shit  I'll take ya way back
 Spittin' game longer than the gateway track
 It must have been a blessin' raised as an adolescent
 And mack 11 testin' in tha glass house
 Straight twamped out cuz hang gotta Caddy on them thangs
 Wit a phat ass TV  so at age 9 I wanted that to be me
 And now big A.C. can make in million on the Vegas strip
 Since 1976 we been infuenced by pimps
 And y'all suckas, is lucky that Smooth can't walk
 Cuz a lot of y'all fools would be outlined in chalk
 And I'd like to say what's up, to my nigga Ronny Wenn
 He's a G when it comes to strugglin' hustlin'
 To the top, Rest in Peace to Pop and Chris Macabee
 He put the Mac in me, Thats why I ride a brome today
 Straight game, the crestside way, we goin' pop all day
 Whether weed or Yay, I'm still stressin' cuz it seems like last night
 we lost
 Mike,
 S double, and damn God needs to let the real nigga's live,
 But Nokey is gone and Freddy is dead
 In the Crestside

 (Chorus)

 Now 95 is the day and soldiers shootin' for the game,
 Big Buggy's a straight killa servin' rocks on the way
 The Double R hit them banks wit' glocks in the Pelican Bay
 You disrespect the Country Club and fool prepare for the shank,
 This ain't no overnight shit
 We been at this for years
 Back when Finch rolled a Benz and Baby Frank was gettin' his
 So if you ask me, why my fondest memories is bout' shootouts
 And high speeds with the police
 Spill Hennessey for D-Boy and house Dubee,
 It's us against them so I stay true to the triple C
 6' in the morn choppin' quit low on the St's set up shop
 Throughout the "V" to move the next key
 Rivals be snitchin' but cook em' all in a crock pot
 Floss old schools on gold shoes and let the hoes jock
 Crestside shit, Aliens wanna copy-cat
 All in a city full of squares, playa's, and dirty mack's
 Wanna-be gangsta's, and small tymer's tryin' to act hard
 Well real-ass soldiers, a chosen few rollin' like hard
 North of Vallejo, cuddies puttin' in the major work
 Open your eyes and take a look at my crazy turf.
 It's called the...

 (Chorus)

 Back when that Piggy P was a crooked cop
 Back when that K St. mob ruled the Kemper block
 Back when we said fuck the world, because we loved Benz
 Do you remeber Figgaro and tryin' to hustle for ends
 Hopin' that I stick to my grind and stay real to the street
 One day I'll talk on Mobile phones and have a Chevy Caprice
 Wit a couple of mounts and some slam in my trunk
 And a spliff of that zesty cuz we don't fuck wit' them blunts
 But in this day and age cuddy, this done got ill
 Youngsta's that won't a mill and ain't afraid to kill
 What the crooked game deals baby bloods gettin' spilled
 Now it's blunt packin' chumps that try to set up shop where we chill
 So it's all to the hood cuz when we mob I'm stayin' hip to the time,
 Got my mind on my money keep one hand on my nine
 On the same street corner where I was brought up and raised
 The only chance I get for peace is when I'm drunk or I'm blazed
 If this shit soundin' far-fetched and you think that I lied
 Grab your nuts nigga , we goin' for a ride through the Crestside

 (Do Thangs)

 This game don't stop from the Crestside
 O.G.'s young pimps, playa's thats right

 (Chorus 3X)

 (Do Thangs)

 This game don't stop from the Crestside
 Tec nines, mack joints nigga thats right
 This game don't stop from the Crestside
 O.G.'s young pimps, playa's thats right

 One Luv,
 Dolomite