Оригинален текст
[Verse 1]
Look I'm from Westside, California they run up on ya
Ask you where you from and check the tatts under your clothing
Hustler go hard make sure my? swollen
F*ck you, say the wrong hood bullets explodin
And I trust few people these days cuz that's gold
I seen n*ggas get killed for who they roll with
And chose ta keep a small circle Satan sittin on ya sofa
Same n*gga that shot ya was the same n*gga you used ta smoke wit
Cold sh*t my whole clique Notorious
You heard of us, 6owes is murderas
You still servin?
Jealous n*gga you broke as f*ck
Yo b*tch on my nuts, spillin patron out my cup
She can't get enough, buffer me down as I puff
On the finest kush they say I be doin too much
I just do my stuff
Yea I just do my stuff
Hussle hussle
[Verse 2]
I got Slauson on my back
Ed Hardy on my hip
Weight of the world on my shoulders
Gold rolly on my wrist
Neighbor hood chucks
Blue checkerboard tip
Dickies saggin off the ass walk with a? limp
Two bricks on my white tee
Same color cocaine
I aint talkin dope I mean the price of my gold chain
All money in no money out that was my slogan
What I mean by that is stack it up and don't spend no change
I started small time dope game, cocaine
With seven grams was 30 rocks that was my program
The block propane young n*gga no change
Shoot out wit no aim
So they kno yo name
Cuz where yo mama payed rent that was yo gang
So when yo homeboy bled that was yo pain
And if ya'll both catch a case you don't say no names
That's just the code of the color of my shoe strings