Cross 'Em out and Put a 'K

Well it's the mad chickenhawk with the dirty lick style And pullin 211's ever since TAA-DOOW There's ten million ways to die Choosin Mack and hit the boopin' floosin' Off this gang-bang music So all I'd wanna got the room stumped I'm smokin, make dough like Trump Cookin powder til they chunk, punk! Straight off dust, nigga trust I bust And cross em out and put a'K if they ain't down with us It's off the hook, nigga, I'm a Westside crook, nigga The forty motherfuckin dollars on my books, nigga I'm not an MC, I'm not a G I mean I'm A-to-fuckin-Z and everything in between Rappers like gangbangin cos I'm in it to the fullest And my hood ain't never dodgin bullets It's all about the Bloods and Crips, no one tri-ips Colors and dips, bitches and chips, nigga! Woo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo What's this my ??? radar system Detects busta B-I-itches on the premises Nigga be dissin on a down low So now my motto is "Fuck every rapper from the East and the West Coast" New School, Old School, I hate you motherfuckers I'm steady plottin wipin my ass wit'cha album covers Cross em out and put a'K Then no Saint days, nigga, then run the fuckin holidays 'Ey! I Cross 'Em Out and Put a 'K! Inglewoooood! Nigga! To South Central L.A.! Goddamn nigga! This shit make me sick All these West Coast cowards ridin New York dick (Brrgh!) Bustas get sprayed wearin high-top fades And Kangols backwards with dark-ass shades No switchblades, nigga, we shoots That's how it is on the West when you're true to your roots So kill the action, punk, hoochie bitches clown Nigga get your sag on and keep your pants legs down Check it! Ho shut your mouth and get naked! I'm Connected and ain't no bitches singin on this record No R& B tracks, just niggas on wax Kickin facts with these gang-bang raps Every nigga in the industry wanna rap with me Like it's all good, you ain't from my hood Nigga, I don't even like your shit, I don't like your crew I'm true, you're through, nigga fuck you! Nigga get off, this shit is wack Fuck that, I bust you in the can with a motherfuckin propajack Spit on ya, shit on ya when I get on ya, piss on ya You're goin up and your fuckin cos I ain't lovin none of ya And even female rappers are gettin smacked Stabbed in the titties and kicked in the back Cos I'm a westside Connection hista Bored from a lover dishin nothin but (foolers?) and dirty rubbers 'Ey! I Cross 'Em Out and Put a 'K! Inglewoooood! Nigga! To South Central L.A.! Brrrgh! In about four seconds, a killa will begin to speak Now you can cross out the busters and snitches B-Real and Miss Muggs is like Hollywood bitches From the niggas I know in the streets I run through Swear to god bitch real it ain't one dog that know you (not one) So watch what you say, who ya talkin bout, ya tweakin And keep hogs out'cha mouth when ya bitch ass is speakin I'm sick wit it, cappin'cha dome till I hit it This Westside Connection, Cypress know they can't fuck with it Use to get kisses and hugs, now I'm servin ya slugs Fuck B-Real and Muggs, y'all niggas ain't no fuckin thugs Be all surprised, everybody dies From Columbian neckties covered with flies Ya fuckin maggots, ya fuckin faggots I should alert you, every motherfucker that I know wanna hurt you So when I pull my spraycan to spray I'm sprayin C-H-K all motherfuckin day I once knew this bitch by the name of Q-Tip Who claim he had a problem with this gangsta shit Behind closed doors, runnin his mouth like a trick-in Til this nigga bout the name of Dove caught him slippin Tied his ass up and threw him in the truck Put an apple in his mouth and dug his ass out About a month later they found his body stashed In a trash bag with a cucumber in his ass 'Ey! I Cross 'Em Out and Put a 'K! Inglewoooood! Nigga! To South Central L.A.! Don't go chasin waterfalls Stick to them dicks and balls you're used to Punk ass motherfuckers! Brrrrgh!