Verse 1:

Welcome to the ghetto and this is the place young niggas be throwin

they rocks up in my face

My homey G be yellin yo this like a holdup I'm pullin my gat to make

a mutha fucka fold up

In my Jag on my phone talkin business Mac 10 to my dome Yo what is this

I'm tellin him drop it Yo let's box and we can go a round he dropped

his gat I picked it up and blew his ass down

I know it's scandalous but a simple fuckin dirty fact, I'd rather hear

my Uzi rat-a-ta-ta-tat-tat

It's for protection not to kill or break a nigga's bones, back to the

story, here's the story B the story on

His guts were scattered he was splattered up against the wall, my homey

G was on my phone buggin off my call

I tried to smash but I'm lookin at some high beams into the eyes of

some mutha fuckin dope fiend

He seen me shoot him so I shot him blew his ass off , I shot my Uzi up

in the air and then I smashed off

I'm rollin thicker than a milkshake, I like to eat crab but I prefer

steak

I ain't no joke mutha fucka so don't play yourself, I flip you over fry

your ass like a patty melt

And if you ever disrespect me I'ma bank ya, so say what up to the

mutha fuckin east bay gangsta

meneme forgot to use my nine cuz 5-0 bombed the AK, the 187 posse

robbed the bank in a way. Legal or illegal it's the way of the bay. The

government keep the profit of cocaine in a way. Me shootin up me

shootin up if he don't give me my pay The niggas up on the block send

for me every day. A thousand everyday will keep the 5-0 away. Just

call me east bay G-A-N-G-S-T-A

Verse 2:

Looked in my mirror cose range right behind me, tinted windows up in

the Benz 190

I ain't no du