T-Dog - C.R.I.P. lyrics

These lyrics were submitted through RapPad - Write Better Lyrics This compton baby!!! I swear yalk think we crazy But thats all cuz I be crippin You all be trippin Tripin over your own ba**sack This is where your road stops, a roadblock Bang bang you die Cuz When we get high No tellin what well' do to ya But we ain't mad at cha We juat pop people wearin red You should know yo own set But this only happens after 114 freeway Over here people die everyday Wheher its the west side or the east side By 12 someone has already died This is banging in watts More props. r.i.p., my poor pops sh** time to do a drive-by on the bounty hunter bloods Can we take shots while we doin this?what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups We doin this while we drunk Some n***as ain't got no luck Oh shot ten n***as I put on my knickers Time for another drive - on fruit town All i wanted to do was get that trick down Oh sh** here come the cops Why ain't my aks goin to talk f** it ill use a Glock We back in the hood, crips shootin pigs everywhere Just all out warfare Every set, the rollin sets, grape street, pj watts, santana blocc, and south compton crips Sooner or later all these cops gonna trip Alright we lost the po po sh**m now we gotta hide out like a hobo