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[feat. Kokane] [Verse 1:] Look I'm from Westside, California they run up on ya Ask you where you from and check the tatts under your clothing Hustler go hard make sure my? swollen Fuck you, say the wrong hood bullets explodin And I trust few people these days cause that's gold I seen niggas get killed for who they roll with And chose ta keep a small circle Satan sittin on ya sofa Same nigga that shot ya was the same nigga you used ta smoke with Cold shit my whole clique Notorious You heard of us, 6owes is murderas You still servin? Jealous nigga you broke as fuck Yo bitch on my nuts, spillin patron out my cup She can't get enough, buffer me down as I puff On the finest kush they say I be doin too much I just do my stuff Yea I just do my stuff Hussle hussle [Verse 2:] I got Slauson on my back Ed Hardy on my hip Weight of the world on my shoulders Letras de cancionesGold rolly on my wrist Neighbor hood chucks Blue checkerboard tip Dickies saggin off the ass walk with a? limp Two bricks on my white tee Same color cocaine I ain't talkin dope I mean the price of my gold chain All money in no money out that was my slogan What I mean by that is stack it up and don't spend no change I started small time dope game, cocaine With seven grams was 30 rocks that was my program The block propane young nigga no change Shoot out with no aim So they kno yo name Cause where yo mama payed rent that was yo gang So when yo homeboy bled that was yo pain And if ya'll both catch a case you don't say no names That's just the code of the color of my shoe strings From Letras Mania