Family Thing (feat. Evilside G’z & Endacut)

N***a

Who a real rider is

My family fool

That's right

Puts it down on any hood or clique

That's real trick

It's the young mackola slangin crack to stackola

The chip motorola holds the 44 to blow ya

Dohja smoke ignites the fire like lighters

The drop 64's catch the h*es on sighta

Let's take a trip to where the homies puts it down

And say I never come around

But I'm in traffic tryna make a proper come up

Livin in this hell hole makes me wanna blow my dome up

My baby mama is more righteous than they come

The hood's on my back the child support don't help me none

So now I'm on a mission n***as in my rear view

D**n it's the homie what the f**k them n***as up to

I bust a U and still the homies on my backside

I grab the 44 hit the petrol in a G-O metro

And d**n I still got payments on this muthaf**ka

I lost all the hub caps and the homies I don't trust 'em

Well Young Prod if these n***as start trippin

And Twin I got your back too if it's mo' than two

And if it's mo' than three they gotta f**k with me

And that's how it's gon swing with this family thang

Y'all n***as kill me feel me down when you up around

Clown me down me when your a*s not up around me

Now tell me G who's the f**kin playa hata

Mad 'cause I put my family up on some paper

My homie Joe gave me the 'fo on your b***h-a*s

Hey troop I got your back loc so won't you put the smash

Down clowns like you I call haters

Mad 'cause you jock us but still can't fade us

It's young trip on a creep as I tips down man

They got nothin to lose but 50 G's to gain

If I maintain a low profile like a Pirelli

'Cause n***as be schemin like evil side and wicked dreamin

Night after night be havin a n***a straight plottin

Like Oliver Stone out to get a grip of his own

And it's on and ain't no fakin n***as out for the takin

But if they come at me wrong Rata-tat-tat ain't no get bacc

Now from the gate I gots to skate block to block when I'm swervin

Puffin up on that herb and still down for curb servin

Cutlass on deck n***as trip I'm a winner

Khakis and Chuck T's gold D's as I bend the

N***a's block batteries hot lockin a 40

Gold Rhimeson packin heat and it's on

N***as playa hatin 'cause I stack the chip dippin in a C-low

Puttin my bang down with my kinfolks

I see them half-a*s h*es so d**n down I used to figure

But now I'm hearin s**t it makes me wanna pull a trigger

N***a I put you down when you had nathin

N***a but now I'm hearin 'bout your playa hatin

Rollin in my low-low '64 loc with my kinfolks

Fake-a*s locs they get smoked tho'

We still deep we be tight like Vice Grips

Collectin chips dumpin clips on n***as who set trip

BiAtch

Westside and Eastside

Takin your a*s on a gangsta ride

So peep this s**t out n***a

It's the in-a-cut-gang baby baby

And it's the South Central Cartel baby

And it's the Young Prod thang baby baby

And all them n***as can't fade me

I'm crazy

Yeah we be puttin it down for the 199-muthaf**kin-6

You know what I'm sayin