Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging who you beefing with
I know your baby never hurt nobody
But he got his ass smoked at that Mustard party
OG Blood everybody know me
When I came in with the little homies
Skeme
Get out the way yo
Get out the way yo
That n***a duke just moved a house in yayo
And you know I keep gunners on the payroll
I even f**ked with Mitchy Slick down in Daygo
Young General these niggas gotta spray for
You F**k around and catch 20 out this Range Ro'
Mane that beef shit is what a n***a made for
I open fire on her open mouth case closed
Came in this b***h with
Chuck Taylor's screaming f**k haters
Bad b***h I'ma f**k later tryna touch paper
In a 6 tray rag going brazy up the ave
What I'm drinking got me thinking n***a
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging who you beefing with
It's anybody killa that's for anybody n***a
Mainline waistside westside n***a
F**k peace this for Crenshaw kings
Suckin' out niggas f**k is ya'll mean
Lowkey is on drop
Give a f**k bout whatcho mama
When it's on it's on
Pop it like a bottle of patron
Then lay back with a b***h
Man this is westside Jay to your fifth
No gimmicks God damn
I won't stop being a blood to gangland
To my dope then kicked in locked up in a strange land
So when they be like
Slick why we ain't see you on TV or nothin'
Shit I'm still tryin' get off the gang injunction
Cause when it come to this been
I'm a monster to your leaf
You can do a whole damu documentary on just me
Call it The Life of a Hundred Percent Real Whooper
They did it for the grams moves and the hush
Gah damn
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging who you beefing with
I put the woop in the woop like my DLB's
All I know is VNG's and FTB's
I ran phase back to back that's on STB
And if you claimin' you a blood
Shit you better know me
Big homie gave me a gun and said
It better be empty
I was eleven years old with a mother f**kin' fifty
I got love for certain niggas
I've been doing this since Nehi
And you ain't a real blood
If you didn't bang at the beehive
Westside AM back in a straight jacket
Mister LA back free my A track
Middle of July I'm just tryin' bring a Maybach
Whole city riding I ain't even did a Dre track
n***a this Athens Miller gang mad
So east coast niggas be like Cuh you crackin'
Niggas ain't goin' hard as you should stop rappin'
I'ma be the street rider till the casket
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging who you beefing with
RJ what's that shit we was doing the other day
Blood to that uh
To that Mustard beat when the homie was beating
On his chest and shit
Oh you talkin' 'bout that uh that uh
The homies in the cut that's on E
Niggas turnt up and we bout to hit the street
Mumbling
Ay the blood ay take blood drink
Give me that mutha'f**kin' weed blood
Ay duke do that shit blood
The homies in the cut that's on E
Niggas turnt up and we bout to hit the street
The homie on probation make him sit up in the back
Bout to hit the weed spot and get another sack
I said the homies in the cut that's on E
Down for whatever cuz the homies roll deep
Finger on the trigger bandana round the Mac
Ride through the hood with a cup full of 'gnac
Ay n***a lemme hit the weed
Where the f**k you get this bud from homie
Ay we about to run outta gas my n***a
The homies in the cut that's on E
Niggas turnt up and we bout to hit the street
The homie on probation make him sit up in the back
Bout to hit the weed spot and get another sack
I said the homies in the cut that's on E
Down for whatever cuz the homies roll deep
Finger on the trigger bandana round the Mac
Ride through the hood with a cup full of 'gnac
I'm a real Compton Crip
I hope you niggas get the message
Leave them 16's open
I'll make them look bad on records
Chuck told me "I'm Good" now
I'm headed down to the seaters
After that straight to the hood
Where them tanners holding theme heaters
Look sagging down the A-Line war f**k it no play time
Hit my first tour I was still chuckin' up gang signs
Homies still cooking them cops hop out with K9
Lot of rappers's callin' out names n***a don't say mine
The homies in the cut that's on E
Some niggas bang the C
Some niggas bangin' the P
I'm really in the streets you other niggas is weak
On my mama and the hood f**k around
And Ya ass in peace
Especially when the homies in the cut that's on E
Niggas turnt up and we bout to hit the street
The homie on probation make him sit up in the back
Say n***a that little nigga's right there cuz
Where n***a
Right across the street loc
Man I told these niggas the last time
They keep pullin' 'em over here
There gonna be problems cuz
Ay cuz turn that f**kin' music down n***a
Tired of these niggas comin' over here and shit n***a
Turn the lights on man turn the lights on
Man pull up n***a I said pull up cuh
Hol' Up hol up they look like One Time
Oh f**k cuh
This is the Compton Police
Man I knew I shouldn't have rolled witchu niggas
I'm about to get life cuz
Life
Cuz they bout to put me on the row n***a
Aight
Shut it off a*****e
It's off cuh
Hey look at blood and them get jacked by the ones
Ha ha ha n***a don't drop that soap n***a
b***h ass niggas in ya old hood n***a
n***a hit the switch n***a
Get back to 05' on these niggas blood
Woo
I ain't goin'
Shh
F**k that n***a cuz I swear to God I ain't goin'
The f**k you mean you ain't going
I ain't going back to the pen cuz I can't
n***a what the f**k we gon' do then
I don't know about you niggas but I'm going out
F**k it then cuh on Compton Crip
Kick the door
F**k the police
