The Game - Gang Bang Anyway lyrics

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The Game - Gang Bang Anyway lyrics

[Verse 1: ScHoolboy Q] Um, yeah palms sweating guess it's time for the murder My n***a my nerve, I swerve left you dead on the curb Tell his family get them black clothes Any witness gets a 9 cold, could do this with a blindfold I'm that player on the corner looking dry when it rains Pimp a dollar out a p**y, I ain't trying to change Far from average, I'm smoking this cabbage Bottled teeth, joint karats, say cheese, make the cops freeze Big cribs, four bars, living pipe dreams You only gangsta through your bop screen Might set the reason for tHe crime scene Fill up the city with madness We the reason the hearses left your hood and holding up traffic Let the riddles do the scrapping, keep the gun in my fabric Better pistol than them badges, you get dealt with the maggots Heard drive-bys everyday Seen homies die early age, though we still gang bang anyway Uh, yeah, Figg side [Hook: ScHoolboy Q] Though we still gang bang anyway, uh Though we still gang bang anyway, uh Though we still gang bang anyway, uh Though we still gang bang anyway [Verse 2: Jay Rock] B's and them H's, tats on faces, Glocks with extendos Chucking up the hood then throw like 80 out that window The chopper make you limbo Gotta keep them antennas up, moving down Central Young n***as with skinnies, moving with them semis Catch your a** leaving the club, murk you at Denny's Squeeze till it's empty, it seems so unreal 'Til the gunfire got you using tables as a shield East side, west side, n***as getting chastised Dropping like fruit flies, we all know who die We all go on Insta and get the whole rundown A 15 second clip until he put the gun down Know OG's who took more shots like diabetics Had that MAC paint on your face like cosmetics Chucking up big a** B's is my fetish Type of sh** that make you go brazy if I let it n***as got zippers, wheelchairs and prosthetics [Hook: ScHoolboy Q] Though we still gang bang anyway, uh Though we still gang bang anyway, uh Though we still gang bang anyway, uh Though we still gang bang anyway [Verse 3: The Game] Hundred days, hundred nights, n***a Let the K'ss scream 'til we see the red and blue lights, n***a From the Hoovers to the Hundreds, n***a From Kelly Park to Bounty Hunters, n***a (Watch out for the shooters) Same age as the kids in Iraq now LA Chiraq now, funerals is packed now Preachers at the pulpit, Jesus is the background Grandmother get shot walking out the church How that sound? n***as don't really like it but we grew up in it City of angels, belly of the beast get chewed up in it Started as Black Panthers, everything power, everything pro black Started off unified the FBI know that A little coke sprinkled on tables but wasn't no crack False imprisonment, Huey P, Geronimo Pratt Now close your eyes, listen to me, your mind'll go back Picture us chained together under the boat, that's a Kodak And since today is Thursday, let me hit you with a throwback Stolen identities, God left us here without lowjack Forced to find ourselves, forced to break up outta chains Got tired of getting hanged so we started our own gangs Tookie Williams (Crip), Sylvester Scott (Blood) Seventy two Lil' Country caught a slug And that was the first time a crip ever k**ed a blood Now the sh** is worldwide cause it is what it was We know the history and we know the sh** could end any day [Hook: ScHoolboy Q] Though we still gang bang anyway, uh Though we still gang bang anyway, uh Crips, primarily African American gang Though we still gang bang anyway, uh Founded in Los Angeles, California 1969 By Raymond Washington and Stanley Williams Though we still gang bang anyway Today there's over a million Crip members worldwide Associated with the blue bandana Bloods, also primarily African American Street gang founded in Los Angeles county city known as Compton By Sylvester Scott and Benson Owens A mission he formed to provide members protection from the Crips Today there's over 5 million Bloods worldwide The government still can't contain us And our fate was sealed forever When 17 year old LA brim Frederick "Lil Country" Garrett Was murdered by west side Crips on June fifth 1972 [Skit] Crip 1: Hey man ain't that Lil Country over there cuz? Crip 2: If it is, his a** gon' be laying in a blood river Crip 1: Hey man, make a u-turn and pull up on him real slow Crip 2: Alright cuz Crip 1: What's happening Fred? Shotgun pump and gunshot Woman: Frederick, oh my god, oh my god Frederick no, no Gasping for air Woman: Please, oh my God Somebody help me Y'all just gonna f**ing stand there? Call the police Somebody help me, please Ok stay with me