| I woke up this morning, took a piss, then brushed my teeth | 
| Then I hopped my pimpin' ass in that water | 
| Threw on some designer and then I reached for my Patek | 
| Put that drip around my neck like a flea collar | 
| All I know is gouda, and I stay with protection | 
| In case a sucka muthafucka get to flexin' | 
| If them fools get in my business and they askin' me questions | 
| I ain’t about to do no tellin' or confessin' | 
| My grind is aggressive, it ain’t no draggin' my feet | 
| It ain’t no pumpin' my brakes, mayne, my family gotta eat | 
| I don’t know everything, but I know enough | 
| I know it’s sick out here and they’ll call your bluff | 
| A daily shooting liable to come outta nowhere | 
| In California they don’t play fair | 
| They’ll do a walk-by in front day care | 
| They’ll use a little baby as a human shield | 
| When it comes to gettin' they mans they don’t care who get killed | 
| OOOUH! | 
| The streets is cold at night, and full of zombies (Full of zombies) | 
| Runnin' from police, they was gettin' on me (Gettin' on me) | 
| Gotta watch my back, gotta watch the homies (Gotta watch the homies) | 
| Gotta watch the homies (Gotta watch the homies) | 
| Watch 'em! | 
| BIATCH! | 
| You wanna wallow with the hogs, or fly with the eagles? | 
| Slow it down and vibe wit' ya people (Ride wit' ya people) | 
| He who, moves fast is destined to fall victim | 
| To niggas, who was plottin' to catch him slippin' | 
| Listen, it’s a whole lotta wisdom being given for free | 
| By OG’s that done lived this | 
| Hear this, the whole hood full of zombies | 
| Walkin' around this bitch tryna take something from me | 
| It’s all about the money | 
| As I sit back and reminisce on how it done me | 
| One minute it’s all good wit' ya potna (Wit' ya potna) | 
| The next minute we tryna figure out who shot ya (Who shot ya?) | 
| Been the homeboy since day one wit' it | 
| Used ride him in the Maybach tinted | 
| And that’s different, wonder what happened | 
| This nigga played you, I woulda zapped him | 
| The streets is cold at night, and full of zombies (Full of zombies) | 
| Runnin' from police, they was gettin' on me (Gettin' on me) | 
| Gotta watch my back (Gotta watch my back, mayne) | 
| Gotta watch the homies (Gotta watch the homies) | 
| Gotta watch the homies (Gotta watch the homies) | 
| Watch 'em! | 
| BIATCH! | 
| It’s a different ballgame I’ll have you know | 
| Nowadays they don’t care how many niggas you killed 20 years ago | 
| They’ll body the body man for some dough | 
| Toe-tag the body man that bodied the body man’s toe | 
| Surgical gloves — no fingerprints, no evidence | 
| Hyenas and baby cubs staking out your residence | 
| Ready to get 'em somethin' and turn 'em into skeletons | 
| Did they homework, got intel and intelligence | 
| It’s murkish, it’s spooky like a Steven Spielberg movie | 
| No unity in the community, just funerals, wakes, and eulogies | 
| Everybody sick, it’s going around | 
| And blind people ain’t the only one with a stick, it’s goin' down | 
| Catastrophic conditions, disaster and destruction | 
| Makin' the wrong decisions and not reading the instructions’ll | 
| Get you caught in a Catch 23, not Catch 22 | 
| Them 7−6-2's'll go right through you, BIATCH! | 
| The streets is cold at night, and full of zombies (Full of zombies) | 
| Runnin' from police, they was gettin' on me (Gettin' on me) | 
| Gotta watch my back, gotta watch the homies (Gotta watch the homies) | 
| Gotta watch the homies (Gotta watch the homies) | 
| Watch 'em! | 
| BIATCH! | 
| It’s sick out here, mayne | 
| I just give it to 'em straight, not fake | 
| I don’t trust none of these niggas | 
| I’m out here with the crabs in the buckets, walkin' snakes | 
| All these niggas do is infiltrate, phone pimp, and hate | 
| Jealous ass muthafuckas, two-faceded, backstabbin' ass niggas | 
| Lazy muthafuckas ain’t got no morals and respect for their muthafuckin' mama | 
| You fuckers! | 
| I don’t like none of you niggas | 
| Nigga, I could see right through you like Scotch Tape |