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You are watching: How we do rmx

Aw yeah, let's take a tripJust sit back and light a spliff with this and don't slipOn a funky-dope track, jump backStrapped with a fat buddha sack and a 7-8 'lacCome clean, gangsta lean, I got greenBud, I serve dubs like it ain't no thingI hang with OG playas, don't set tripOr you might get what we call a rat packI don't slack when it come to streetI kick real G-funk to a gangsta beatIt's so sweet, when you got money to spendI got a proper big tilt and a fly-big BenzI make ends, spend my dough on no foeThat's how it is, and that's how it goesAct like you know when I creep real slowGivin' love to them players that I know is real G'sNow ever since a nigga was a seedOnly thing promised to me was the penitentiaryStill ballin', ridin' on these niggas ‘cause they lameIn a '61 Chevy, still heavy in this gameCan you feel me? Blame it on my mama, I'm a thug niggaUp before the sunrise, quicker than the drug dealersTell me if it's on, nigga, then we first to bomb, bustOn these bitch-made niggas, hit 'em up!Westside! Ain't nobody loved me as a broke niggaFinger on the trigger, Lord, forgive me if I smoke niggasI love my females strapped, no fuckin' from the backI get my currency in stacks, California's where I'm atRidin', passed by while these niggas wondered whyI got shot but didn't die, let 'em see who's next to tryDid I cry? Hell nah, nigga, tears shedFor all my homies in the pen, many peers deadNiggas still ballin'
This is how we doWe make a move and act a fool while we up in the clubThis is how we doNobody do it like we do it, so show us some loveThis is how we doWe make a move and act a fool while we up in the clubThis is how we doNobody do it like we do it, so show us some loveNow everybody wanna see us deadTwo murdered on the front pageShot to death, bullets to the headNiggas holler out my name and it's similar to rapeMothafuckas know I'm comin'So they runnin' to they gravesWatch! Swoop down with my nigga from the Pound(Eazy) don't give a fuckWhere you coward niggas now?Blast, keep pumpin', ain't worried about nothin'Busters thought we was frontin'So reload and keep dumpin'Dump on fools with a quicknessAnd they got no cure for the sicknessI get paid for the way that I kick thisLike a G-ster, an OG-ster (who's that?)A real player named EazyAnd I live my life straight crazyDon't need no punk fools payin' meAnd broke groupies and hootchies don't faze meI take two steps back and release myselfTo put platinum and gold on the record shelfI don't brag, but I tell it like it straight-up isBefore you do a record, partner, handle your businessAnd don't get caught slippin' on the underOr you might wonder, (What's up with them ends, G?)I call a spade a spade and get paidG's show the way, so I give love to 'em


See more: M-Audio Microtrack Ii - Micro Track 2 : Electronics

I put gold Daytonas on that Cherry Six-FourWhite walls so clean it's like I'm ridin' on bulbsHit one switch, man, that ass so lowCali got niggas in New York ridin' on hundred spokesTouch me, tease me, kiss me, please meI give it to you just how you like it, girlYou know I'm rockin' with the bestFour pound on my hip, gold chain on my chest (Ah!)Fifty, uh, Bentley, uhEm came and got a nigga fresh out the slumAutomatic gun, fuck 'em one-on-oneWe wrap up your punk-ass, stunt and you doneHomie, it's Game timeYou ready? Here I comeCall Lloyd Banks and get this mothafucker crunkIt took two months, but Fifty got it doneSigned with G-Unit, had niggas like "huh?"Don't try to front, I'll leave your ass slumpedThinkin' I'm a punkGet your fucking head lumped, Fifty got a gunReady? Here he comeGot a sick vendetta, to get this cheddarMeet my Beretta, the drama setterSip Amaretta, my flow sounds betterThan average, on tracks I'm a savage, I damageAny nigga tryin' to front on my clique (G-Unit!)