(feat. Spice 1, Yukmouth)



[C-Bo: Talking]

First off we the mutha fuckin Thug Lords

Now for all you niggas bangin, that mutha fuckin West Coast like nigga?

YouknowhatI'msayin? And fa sho no lie

29th Street Crip Gang nigga, C-Bo holdin nothin back

Yukmouth, Spice 1 and we do it live, for the world it's still fuck off

You know what and we in that you knowhatI'msayin?

And this how we handle business, nigga

From the early 80's to these 2 G's, boy



[C-Bo]

Huh, We blaze em up with AK's, double my clip and we dip

Set trip and get hit, flip Crip or get zipped

Run with the Crips, catch me clumsy in the 6

6 rag invertable slide divertable, murder ya

Dead and gone never heard of ya

Now we stuffin lead in the crome, bout to hurt ya

Pack ya down in the earth, we put work in like Mad Dirt

Odainers twistin like the revolver or the earth

Fuck church, it's a must I burst and curse

Yeah I'm a West Coast Bad Boy but a thousand times worst

Dime piece, gun in her purse, one in her skirt

Cross me, bet ya life that my bitch burst

Got me lockin down the world for the North Pole

Too cold to hold lyrics froze my wrist and my hoes

Number one Thug Lord, fuck wit us!

I won't lie the whole world gonna rush wit us, tell em



[Chorus: Yukmouth and Spice 1]

Thug Lord niggas boss up and don't stop

Thugged out niggas boss up and don't stop

Thug Lord niggas boss up and don't stop

Thugged out niggas boss up and don't stop

Blow! Blada baba bo, blada baba bang bang

Spice, Yuk and Bo we do the damn thang

Blow! Blada baba bo, blada baba bang bang

Thug Lord niggas we do the damn thang



[Spice 1]

Nigga you listenin to the B-O-S-S-I-L-I-N-I

Yukmouth and C-Bo you know they label us born to die

But I pistol slap you and two niggas like 3 Stooges

Walk over to the bar and sip on Gin and juice

It's just the gangster in me, the thug in me

Mug in me and get yo fro pushed back like homie

You lil clown ass nigga walkin in bozo shoes

While my niggas out here doin hits, makin the news

What you think you gon' dodge these bullets like Matrix?

Like a condom, I even lay teck on a bitch

Now that's some cold shit, a low lick, a cold hit

Leave a nigga at a funeral cryin with no bitch

Some Thug Lord shit nigga shoot up ya coffin

Niggas cross game get murdered by bosses

Cost's yo mutha fuckin life when you play with the rules

They got a n-uh-nigga still singin the blues



[Chorus: Yukmouth and Spice 1]

Blow! Niggas boss up and don't stop

Thugged out niggas boss up and don't stop

Thugged out niggas boss up and don't stop

Thugged out niggas boss up and don't stop

Blada baba bo, blada baba bang bang

Thug Lord niggas we do the damn thang

Blow! Blada baba bo, blada baba bang bang

Spice, Yuk and Bo we do the damn thang



[Yukmouth]

Bitch, next up to bat, Yukmouth destroy the earth with rap

Imagine pain worse than that, my niggas coppin birds of crack

Servin track, cock back and burst the gat

I want my turf back, I hurt that, work that, twerk that

Rolex speed spot like Joe Pesci

AK ready, we deadly, bitch!

I'm like Hannibal, rector eat MC's for breakfast

I'm the hardest artist to sign to a label in Texas

Yes it's that nigga with the platinum grill full of princesses

Invisible set, straight up herbal molescents

In less than 60 seconds I kill em leavin em breathless

Don't fuck with bread, run outta state bit records

With chin checkers in Benz stretches who win cheddar

When fakers scramble liquid hands on niggas with vindettas

I'm like 10 fraredders bustin off at the same time

Payed rhymes, I kick shit off when it's game time



[Spice 1]

Blow! blow, blididat, blididat!

Blow, blow, blididat, blididat, blididat!

Blow, blow, blididat, blididat

Blididat, blididat blalalalat!

Blada baba bo, blada baba bang bang

Thug Lord niggas we do the damn thang

Blow! Blada baba bo, blada baba bang bang

Spice, Yuk and Bo we do the damn thang



[Brother Lynch]

I'm hittin niggas so hard with these you would need Jesus

Beleive these is yo last days I can see you cleavich

That's why I'm fuckin you with the 9 millimeter

And I feed a nigga with the heater, he was a long bleeder

And he taste good with fajitas, heat em up now eat

Member me? Nigga that be eatin raw meat

With tiger claw feet so it's easy to creep

You leave me no reason but to leave niggas bleedin

Recieve grievence with extra Season of the Sicc

I pick em off like Brock Marion

He kept starin so I took care of him, shot him up with heroin

Like malt liqour, to the liver hitter, to the river wit ya

Dip ya down deep, down deep

Where pirana heat they eat they meat

Heat up they seats, they seats with metal from the Southside ghetto

I swear I'll make y'all mutha fuckas yellow

Tired of diggin ditches like the GoodFellows

Not good with mellow, I keep the meat

Keep it hangin in the closet like pig feet

Delete, come with the



[Spice 1]

Blow! Blalat! Blow, blow, blow blididat

Blow! Blalalat! (ahah)

Blow! Blididat, blididat!

Blow, blow! Blalalalat! Blow (ahaha)

Blow!