Buckwild - The Streets lyrics

(Chorus) The streets, yo where it happen at The streets, is where they clapping at The streets, is where the action at The streets, is where they packing at The streets, is where its cracking at The streets, bringing it back to that The streets, banging ya gat to that The streets, start hanging back to that [Kool G. Rap] My n***as ride where they bust at Die where they bust at my murderous guys Slinging them pies where they lust at Or corners where they hang most Name boast and bank toast Drive with the thing close Slide with a James post Empty clips is on now Coke fiends are strung out Broke n***as bum out Jakes holdin they gun out When back streets are taped up Bodies laying faced up Cats running with ace up The spots get 'em paced up The street lamps are broke now Mad b**hes to bone now When n***as peep your home out And flip when they zoned out Thugs bringing the street war Bust shots let the heat roar Taking trips to be more With bricks up in to fiend off The towns where they spray sh** Bust rounds and lay sh** Selling pounds' a great sh** And clowns get their face-lift Spots where gats pop off Shots clear the block off Slugs knock your block off And have you leaking hot sauce (Chorus) On the corners where the dice roll And clubs where the ice glow The lames get their life stole And bleed from a knife fold n***as laying they law down Some draw with a four-pound PJ's are tore down Thoughts of laying hoes down (The streets) Blocks where they lick shots And rock what the fifth co*ked Kids cop the six drop From brick box and zip locks Towns where n***as k** at Posting where it's real at Keeping gats concealed at See a foe you peel at Strip where you get ripped off Hot lead get licked off Fronting and your clicks off All your j**els get stripped off Sidewalks where they creep up Get locked up with a street bop Kids running with heats up Lifting both of your feets up n***as they let their guns loose They wild guns loose Gat up under the chin Blow a n***as sh** through the sunroof Decide where they pack nines The chrome gat shines You try to clap mine You outta line n***as get flat lined (Chorus) Now Chickens a get your crew laced For rocks and a blue face n***as giving they screwface For the loot and the suitcase Spots that blood spills on And dealers clock a 'mil on Murderers get their k** on Mad cash is ill-on Beef turning to combat For life so they pump gats Little kids they harm that Put bombs where your moms at n***as tied up and kidnapped And smacked up with big gats Get found with they wig cracked Leave 'em right where they live at (The streets) Running for red beams Blood flowing in red streets Mad fellas with bread schemes Running from the FED team Little shorties are knocked up Straight giving their crouch up Juveniles decide to pee now with they ox up Crack blocks and weed spots The fiends up in the Detox Some rollin in three drops Others ain't gotta beep bop b**hes that get their ho on Smoke dope on and so on Spotted n***a with glow on With dick they could blow on (Chorus) 2x (Talking) (No doubt) Don G Rap, Giancana ? (Blanked out) Igloo Entertainment No doubt we coming through Ya know how we do Keep it moving Ya better realize Whoever don't Guns do it for us n***as ain't playing no games Y'all know the routines Y'all know the drill