Lyrics:
if you ain't got that pin number dummy, you can't call me
To hook up with Mix you gotta call that number
Then sit by the phone and wonder
Will he
the same way
Only keep the fam around me
So let me know what it's gon be
I don't plan on gettin no sleep, while we
Doin our thing, movin too fast
Six side get ya shit fried nigga
Four, five, six sitch
You already know the fuckin’ vibes
Diamonds, Diamonds, Diamonds, Diamonds, Diamonds, Diamonds
of a master
You never thought you'd be bodied by a bastard
A bachelor who backspin on breakbeats
Break necks of broke souls who hate me
Hate he? you can't
admit
Noddin off by half past six
Yu a racist I smoke mix
Drugs left me with half my wits
Catch me walkin round on some faggot shit
But somehow I'm still
life
They've always been by my side
Addicted to em yea I need my fixin
I got fishies check me water whip it
Cookin dope up catch me in da kitchen
on the corners
Life will keep existing while I'm shitin' on the corners
Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side, do he
will keep existing while I'm shitin' on the corners
Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side, do he live
No the nigga dies
[Intro - talking]
Like it was before, as usual
Somethin different, the boy never sounds the same
[Verse 1]
Body by Nautilus and you ain't even with
Ok let’s do the the math
Seven days out the week I’m writing to a new beat
Multiplied by the funk that got ya movin' ya feet
Yo girl looking more
to the west side
Raw to the project niggas
No cap Sixty Fifth said the mix right
Imma dance with it too
Fuck it it get hit twice
Seven Five get you halfway
be on on my block
We poppin a cop with a Glock
Even them young niggas givin shots
We gives a fuck about a copper, gettin our propers
By burnin cops
murdered by west side Crips on June 5th, 1972
"Say, man, ain't that Lil' Country over there cuz?"
"If it is, his ass gon' be layin' in a blood river"
Russian chopstick, taller than Mutombo
Four nick' knock a hole outta Dumbo
In the kitchen mix the pot up like gumbo
Milly fuck up the pans, I’m a five star
Groooveee
Groooveee
Groooveee I wanna see you move those hips
So moooveee put me in ya mix
Groooveee keep on what ya doin'
Ya movin so smooth and I
Or you can be mix tapin' it
We'll still be creatin' it
You can have a compact disc
Or vinyl gratin' it
(Vibration) but we still
Won't keep the fire waitin'
the Dunn, P., but not the bottle
I keep broads by the (?)
Shape and mold em like waffles
Call em by the palm, get up in they ear like 'Uhh' make a dike
chose I
I ain't gonna lie
What I look like turnin' down chocha
Drove by, smokin' lye
Recognize a pimp, open your eyes
Hop in the passenger side
not the bottle
I keep broads by the (?)
Shape and mold em like waffles
Call em by the palm, get up in they ear like 'Uhh' make a dike wanna turn
dap, nigga
Just pay homage
Peep my steps, always keep the piece on deck
I'm from the danger zone where
We handle beef by death, nigga
Everybody's
In my own lane right now
Just hunt em and fuck em
Wanna slow me down
Nigga here's you some mustard
"No ketchup"
I can't have you by my side
If you act
and move it
Fam is stuck on stupid
What the fuck you doin'
You can keep that 9 to 5
While I'm a keep it movin'
Fam is stuck on stupid
What the fuck you doin'
My minds above the average
Keep eying the carrots
My nine ill make you parish
Chorus
Since sixteen I been movin sixteens
I hold it down for my
They really think i’m soft i just never had to fight
Keep shittin on my name then it’s really on sight
All on my own with nobody by my side
Ion even
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