| Yeah, we be that sick, sick-Ass-Clique
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| Called Above The Law, right back at you (*Laughter*)
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| Yeah, ugh, ugh, yeah, yeah, yeah
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| Beatin' down your block, checkin' in your spot
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| And it don’t stop
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| Like I said before we do our thing from L.A. to Oaktown
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| Pomona style, yeah, so check it, I’ma bust it off like this
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| Nineteen ninety fry, back in your mothafuckin' face
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| Nigga step back before I catch a case
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| Yeah, I’m on the chase for the paper
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| A decade deep into the game and I’ma break you
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| Guarantee to take you, to the next level
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| Yeah, and I’m bound still slam to the flow, trick hoe
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| Yo, so nigga what that A.T.L like, they can’t see me
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| When the nigga passed the Mic, check this
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| I’m comin' up out the mist like Romadeem
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| With nine full it up with the Infrared beam
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| Yeah, I represent that Westcoast down
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| For them niggas on the streets and in the Penthouse
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| So, put your stress up cause we’re gettin' bomb tonight
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| And if you feel me, nigga that’s right
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| Yo, we make the hood-rats yell out
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| Yo, that’s the ?? |
| will your punked out nigga pick it out
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| Because we be the original undisputed ones
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| That make more hits then humble county growth green
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| You know what I mean, ha ha, ugh, yeah
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| When I run up in your spot, you don’t want to see me
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| When I’m beatin' down the block, you don’t want to see me
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| When your bitches on my jock, you don’t want to see me
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| Come trippin' in my spot, you don’t want to see me
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| Cause I’ma player, player, aww, I’ma gangster, gangster
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| Ugh, it’s like bam bam, bambam, bam bam, bambam
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| Damn it feels good to see people up on it
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| Ugh, it’s like bam bam, bambam, bam bam, bambam, yeah
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| We dwell in level, my kinfolk peep me, to the real
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| Homie Diomands last forever, and troops stay together
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| If it be that way, then we’ll drink Cartier
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| The Low-riderin' niggas that’ll get your ass to Alazhay
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| I’m in it, gotherin' Pimp Clinic, they’re partyin' to me baby
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| Did a lick with jack move, now we hell of shady
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| Just heard about pervin' as we bounced to the Bay
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| And we still servin' yay, the old fashion way
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| Pomona is the house, check it out
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| South Central is the house, without doubt, we turn it out
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| Crimin-als, hustlers pay us now
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| All we wanna do is flip a chicken and a half of cow
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| Yeah, we’re ready to kick the monster Jam
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| And we’re on the West, and all the rest of y’all got the script
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| So back up with all that bullshit y’all be woofin'
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| Cause y’all be curb servin' and them T’s we be pushin'
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| I’ma pimp when it comes to them tracks
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| I got them twistin' hoes and bomb bitches triple in my sack
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| Now, quite triple in Mercedes have released them in '96 see with Caddillacs
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| Yeah, that’s how we do it in the nine Fever
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| Floss mode, yeah, you know, ugh
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| When I run up in your spot, you don’t want to see me
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| When I’m beatin' down your block, you don’t want to see me
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| If your bitches on my jock, you don’t want to see me
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| I be trippin' down my spot, cause you don’t want to see me
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| Cause I’ma player, player, aww, I’ma gangster, gangster
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| Ugh, it’s like bam bam, bambam, bam bam, bambam
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| It’s like bam bam, bambam, bam bam, bambam, ugh |