Rick Rock - For My n***az lyrics

Ayo! Light that sh** the f** up man! [Daz] Y'all n***as get ready to get high! What we doin in here y'all, huh? Everybody partyin, smokin, bullsh**tin Drinkin, c'mon HOOK: This for my n***as on the east coast rollin Tinted up Suburban, in the streets swervin All my n***as in the street wit caine Muh'f**a which street you claim? Put your Glock up This is for my n***as on the west coast bouncin Six-four rollin, three wheel motion All my dogs on the block just loc'n n***a put your rag up, playa put your flag up [Verse 1] B Mack in the mix again, I'm startin sh** again I'm in the club with the fifth again West coast n***as sippin gin East coast n***as Belvedere, cranberry n***a mix it in I'm in the back where it's dark as hell sh** you know me, VIP, n***a spark the L And I come to roll a ounce or more, bounce wit who*es sh** all my n***as strapped what all the bouncers for Whether deuce or Sig on Crenshaw Ave I'ma, get them b**hes, get that cash I'ma, hit them switches, lift them spokes I'ma, push that chicken, get that coke I'ma, rock them dickies, Air Force Ones Til the, feds come get me air out guns From the, P H I LL Y, to the, L B C to C P T, uh HOOK [Verse 2] I'm on the block til the pack get sold Don't pack just roll Hit L.A. like Shaq and Kob' n***a please, got trees Aculpulco gold Got connects with the heat got the gats on hold All my n***as vatos locos holmes ese's SA's with SK's a f** if the cops come holmes That's right f** coppers holmes We bust choppers holmes We on the block sent them choppers on Twenty n***as wit they khaki's creased That'll clap police, that sling crack on the back of streets Or twenty n***as on the back of blocks That sling caps and rocks, who won't hesitate to clap the cops Whether I, push the truck to pick up clucks To get they feathers knocked off, then they get dropped off From pickin up b**hes, hittin switches St Ides to Ingbing I'ma do my thing, yo HOOK [Verse 3] All my playas who rock tan trees and chuck tails Say f** they PD's and duck jail Rock wife beaters with the plaided shirts Only top bu*ton bu*toned, ready to buck somethin You f**in wit a gangsta rookie Don't gangsta lookie Shoot up your feet make you gangsta boogie Shoot up your jeep if you gangsta look me What you think this sweet? What you eat, n***a gangsta cookies? Call state to the Staples Center The four quake'll put staples in ya n***a zip up your stomach Rip up your younguns, make you pay to get 'em That's how we play to get 'em, never pay for pigeons Whether I, push the truck to pick up clucks To get they feathers knocked off, then they get dropped off From pickin up b**hes, hittin switches St Ives and Ingbing I'ma do my thing, yo HOOK 2X [Daz] Yeah, [I make 'em walk] Beanie Sigel and that n***a Daz Dillinger [and Kurupt] Dogg Pound Roc La Familia [Dogg Pound] For life, do it like that, put your hands up! [Kurupt] Make them switches bounce n***a California put your hands up n***a Jump over the moon, I wanna hear the gate start to twitchin n***a Don't play no games fool And walk on 'em, yeah, and walk on 'em Uh, and make 'em walk, yeah, my n***a Beans... Bouncin, bouncin...