Dre Jackin For Beats

Yeah, Neighborhood, tiny locs do the most
Nip Hussle in this motherfucker slauson Boy
You niggas already know what it is
Huh? Hood shit
Give y'all a little throwback, like this
Look, look

With so much drama in the RSC
Most of these niggas in LA ain't
Got the heart to beef, so don't
Come around my around my way
Young niggas in the back shootin' dice
Or on the roof with K's
Now as I, step out my closet
Put my keys in my car
Dippin' down the 'shaw
Made a left on Hyde Park
Seen some off-brand niggas lookin' shady
Threw my hood, they start
Laughin' tryna play me, pssh
6-0 degrees got me rollin' up my sleeves
Reachin' for my Ruger that's behind my AC
Fa sheez
I pull up on 'em slow, and hell nah
I ain't hesitate to squeeze
'Cause I'm a tiny loc line presser
You might mess up
Make the wrong turn off Slauson
And learn a life lesson
MACs with extended magazine and suppressors
Strapped 'cause the police ain't on
The streets to protect us
Trapped in a sting
It's all a scheme to collect us
Lock us up in cages that they
Know ain't gon' correct us
Y'all done F'd up you from the West, huh?
You got it on your mind, you
Should get it off you chest, cuh
Lotta speculation who gon' be the next up
Block money
Tell these rappers get they checks up
Before you hit the West
Charger sock kicks up
So when you get took for your
Change you could text us
Between Draws and the homie in the red Chucks
It's safe to say we got
This whole shit sewed up
We got this whole shit sewed up
I'm just looking for some more
Kush to roll up always smoking that la la la
To keep my brain maintainin' through drama
I'm not the one
We jackin' for beats on back streets
With aluminum bats, toe tags, and PD
That's any jurisdiction
In or out the district
7-7 division of crime scene forensic
My 9 blur the vision of material witness 20
20 to blind, now she need prescriptions, look
Cut the lights out and twist up a sack
'Cause the feds tappin' my hood
You get all that?
From the birds to the squad to
The cameras in the back
Of the routes by field where
I handle the pack
See, a nigga like me just had to attack
In junior high, I ain't had no sack lunch
In fact i used to flip a quarter
Get like me for change
Now I flip quarter kilos of
'caine and cop again (It's like)