G &P Records. Get in it like this.
Gangsters and players. Ramflas with flavor.
Ain't no need for haters. I catch them vatos later.
Represent your club and everybody stand up.
Homies throw your plaques up and hang a throw your hands up.
I hit the shows you know. I'm going for them hoes.
Six foes with bow spokes and cholos and lolos.
They got the hop of competition. See who gets the highest.
The cars buy the finest. Treat them like they're priceless.
You got the hoochies groupie sticking to you like some leeches.
Locotes and Brown Boy grab this beat, rip it to pieces.
Regals with some roasters. Impalas on some daytons.
We're here to have a good time. Ain't no need for any hating.
Checking out the hyenas. Modeling for cars.
You don't know who we are, but we ghetto superstars.
Brown Boy and Locotes. I'm hoping that you know this.
Searching through the crowd for some hyenas to go home with.
We represent for them low rides.
We hit and stretch us from side to side.
We represent for them low rides.
We hit and stretch us from side to side.
Relax your mind and let your conscience be free.
You're rolling to the sounds of G and P.
Locote is in the house.
Brown Boy in the lab.
With two freaks on my lap.
I gotta watch my back for them po -pos.
Cause you know you can't stand to see a Mexicano.
Dipping in a Lolo. Bouncing up and down.
Representing for them brown.
City to city. Town to town.
Valle to valle. All them car clubs.
Hitting switches through the calle.
Bumping them oldie book goodies.
Macking on them hoodies.
Them hyenas. Cops right behind us.
G and P's finest. Los mas mejores.
Brown Boy and the big battle of cortes.
Keep the game on lockdown.
And all my real hogs keep them datins off the ground.
We represent for them low rides.
We hit and stretch us from side to side.
Bounce. Bounce. If you hit a switch.
Bounce. Bounce. If you run for the bomb bitch.
Bounce. Bounce. If you rolling with a clique.
Represent your car club. Hit and throw your lacks up.
Locotes. We gon' do it how we want to.
With that Brown Boy bringing music you gon' want to.
Let the music take your mind.
Homies low riding through the sunshine.
64's hopping. Baby dolls jocking.
Ready to explode like a bomb.
Tick tocking in that sun.
Sipping on that Dom Perignon. Nothing's wrong.
I hit it then I quit it then I'm gone.
G and P fool. Be what you can be fool.
Better keep it cool instead of acting like a street fool.
This is how you start love. Homie like a spark plug.
Tell them where you from. Homie represent your car club.
This is from my raza. Deep in all them raflas.
Always putting it down for chicanos and chicanas.
Highness looking sexy. Nothing like you're used to.
Baby Mr. Duende. With music you can move to.
We represent for them all rights.
We didn't switch us from side to side.
Bounce. Bounce. If you hitting the switch.
Bounce. Bounce. If you rolling with a bomb bitch.
Bounce. Bounce. If you rolling with a clique.
Represent your car club. Hit and throw your lacks up.
Oh yeah what's cracking this brown boy.
Represent for all my car clubs.
Hitting front back side to side pancake.
And all that other shit homie.
I wanna say what's up to desert dreams.
City cruisers. Loyalty.
And new illusions.
You still up in this bitch.
What's up to la gente car club.
Bajitos car club. Familia.
Touch of class. Mi vida. Revolution.
And amigos car club.
And any other car club that I miss.
Sit me up homie. Put you down on the next album.
I wanna say what's up to everybody out there.
In the Coachella Valley.
You know Inyo. La Quinta.
All my dogs Imperial Valley.
El Centro. Brawley.
What's cracking out there.
And to my dogs down Blight.
Represent my city. You know how it's going down.
Hey what's up wado.
Make them motherfucking lolos top homie.
You know how you do it doggy dog.
Yeah brown boy.
In the big battle of Cortez.
