Uh uh (Geah, geah, geah, geah)
Yeah yeah (Wha wha)
Dogg Paw Records (Uh uh)
G.L.P. Records (Geah, geah, geah, geah)
Uh uh, check it out, check it out
Tha Gamblaz (D-1-8) What?
[JT the Bigga Figga]
We low-key - city streets, we on the under
Bring thunder, bomb beats for hot summers
We at this, in and out just like a robbery
Break bread, lay down slow because ya bother me
Stressed out, ghetto shots the metal hot
When the cats get to buckin and shit, peep the pot
Camoflauge in the buckets we ride, get up inside
On the other side, now we collide, it's Westside
Certified, I make it happen for my real folks
Representin Fillmoe, we make them hits
All the way to the L.B., cuz them niggaz tell me
They be gettin they grits
[Chorus: JT] - 2X
We put it down for the real folks
L.B. to Fillmoe - you can't fuck with this!
And when it come to the tips
Westcoast represent y'all - all we make is hits!
[Daz Dillinger]
I'm lookin ghetto fab, coordinated with some G shit to bang
Twenty cents on the hang, ain't a fuckin thang
The Bigga Figga Dilli ride the city gettin greedy
Ohh what a pity, smokin sweets and switchin Philly's
I get off the chain, get loose sip juice
On my way get down 'fore I start to produce
I need a valet my frame of mind is madly
Ohh how can I be happy when the feds tryna jack me
They try to get at me and they try to get me
Nothin but G's is ridin with me, all the bullshit can miss me
Westside, Eastside, we ride slide and die
For the cause baby girl, be fuckin her out of her drawers
She know me from back in the days, I get the cabbage
Dat Nigga Daz gots to have it, haha!
I'm a motherfuckin hustler, busts on busters
Fuck all y'all suckers and ride on motherfuckers
[Hook: JT] - 2X
[JT the Bigga Figga]
Man it's more like nuttin to lose, and a lot for me to gain on
I stayed back waitin my turn and got my game on (Game on)
We're not a spotlight, shine every rhyme
Maybe only cuz that's how us niggaz came on
I'm in the same zone of the twilight, livin the high life
And I gotta rhyme tight, man cuz all my fuckin fans
I'm puffin on grams, until a niggaz nearly can't see
For tape three I can't come weak, I'm at my peak
Do a hundred thou a week, through the streets
Got us ready to start collectin 'fetti, swing cars like Andretti
Heavy chips that Tha Gamblaz flip, when we hit
Like the '89 quake, that shook the fuckin Bay
Day to day is what I'm talkin 'bout, who the fuckin tightest?
You know about Tha Gamblaz, G.L.P., Frisco's Finest
Diamond cut records and beats, nuttin sweet
When I speak, only represent for the elite
We play for keeps, fast cars and jeeps, for all my peeps
Clearin up the Billboard charts, on a single sweep
No retreat, I keep the heat, waitin in my notebook
50 bar rhymes with no hooks
[Killa Tay]
They say my mind's in the sky cuz I'm high as a kite
I see the devils run for cover when my people unite
Tryna get my thug life right, and change the way we all think
Finally found the missing link (What is it?)
God is real, I felt the touch
No way to ignore that I recognize
Ain't no money from the third eye, so why lie?
Expectations sky high, then we all die, but the game won't change
So many curses, so many hearses, stuck in my brain
I know the way God works, took me 28 years
To finally face all fears and see my real life clear
I near thug heaven pledgin allegiance to my livin
And the feds can't hate, they know my talent's God-givin
Never been to prison, I'm supernatural for real
Remainin military minded, with a passion to kill
So if the revolution pop off, I'm ready and deadly
I dare any one of you peckerwoods to play with my 'fetti
So feel the fury flow, the planet revolves around me
And now I'm thuggin more than sucker-free
I pray for strength to keep my mind right
Eternal limelight, still in my sight
But now I see straight, my B.G.'s can't re-late
Cuz I'm high-powered...
