Tweedy Bird Loc - G's & Loc's lyrics

[Verse 1: Batman] I wake up in the morning pop my clip up in my sh** I'm puttin' in work, smokin' a Crab like a bigarette One more Crab have to die n***as wonder why I sit back relax - in the cut - as his mama cry His homies want some get back But they can get a toe-tag and that's what you get For takin' out your nasty flue rag The bust - bust with the click ?? they call this true flue I smoke the whole Crab crew Your baby mamas too, and you My name is evil Bat and I'm a rebel and a soldier I'm sparkin' like some folders E-Rickets like I told ya I got you Crab Rickets on the tip of your toes And you be all on my jock Cause you be diggin' my flows And D.J. Quik I took your beat Now I'm lookin' for you Wa**up?! To them Bloods and them Pirus You Rickets just be talkin' I be spittin' that heat Give it up for this Swan East Side M-S-B-G [Verse 2: Troll Loc] Slobs lie dead in the shelf full of .9 lead 17 shots to the face left the Snoop dead Cause I never slipped fully clip for the drive-by Lettin' off shots on the Crens watch these Snoops die For me takin' life As how I leave scars no holds barred Known to be hard, pullin' cards, leavin' Snoops charred Not to be f**ed with play with the step two I trip by a b**h cause I'm k**in' Slob ho's too So pull out your muthaf**in' nuts cause it's jack time f** a Tec-9 This 44 will make you Slobs respect mine Hard to the dome gets me ready for some action Plus I sip on some 'gnac Now I'm set to go blastin', packin' A muthaf**in Mac-10 With the Desert Eagle off safety to make more Slobs hate me Gravely, cause ain't no comin' fake, see All conversation is ended, when my arm is extended And hand clenched around the pistol My partners will make peel like ?? f** a Slob and what he live for Troll Loc with the 'K in the C-P-T f** a B-Dog you should have been a L-O-C [Verse 3: Lil' Hawk] Back on your a** n***a it's me It's that n***a from the West Side C-M-G Straight f**in' it up Cause it ain't no stoppin' Crabs know if it's on then it's motherf**in' poppin' Rickets wanna trip But I don't give a sh** I'm ??? a script - makin' my grip With the sh** that's on it Snap crackle Motherf**in' pop one shot from my Glock and your punk a** drop ho Lolly-a** Crab n***as bangin' on wax fool If you dis my hood then I'm peelin' your f**in' cap It's the 10 and the 4 mafioso, uh, n***a C-K Century and Crabs can't get with the Almighty I'm C to the M to the G, I'm B to the L double O motherf**in' D It's the O.G. West Side name Lil' Hawkster n***a I ain't from Africa Blood, I'm from Crenshaw Mafia n***a WOOP WOOP [Verse 4: AWOL] I made a mistake thought I was down with the Peach street Went to a truce meet - livin' in Elm street I can drink the Thunderbird until I get sick But weed don't get me high enough so I smoke a sherm stick Trip - a b**h in red make a B.G. if I disagree with the homies cause I ain't mackin' to no Slob b**h The wrong Kelly to f** with To press your luck with A Kelly you don't want to get stuck with White ducks better watch their dome When I'm on 7-6 with my muthaf**in' chrome It's like a nightmare on Elm street when I creep And lay them n***as down for the K.P Blue coat, blue beanie and blue Chucks On your Avenues sh** out of luck and stuck A flee-dog ain't sh** to me K's up I'm a motherf**in' L-O double C