Streets Is Callin

[Intro] Yeah, Edo.G, nigga Uh, Diamond D, nigga Jaysaun, nigga Yeah.. what! Yo [Verse One: Edo.G] I spit the factuals, planned out tactical to capture you No preservatives, additives, all natural I'm too practical, makin hits don't tacker you Ball in TWO eras, like Shaq or Bob McAdoo The 80s' showed us what the guns and crack'll do Shackle you, you movin forward or you standing still The look of hate, we try to avoid Cause it's easily annoyed when it's hungry or unemployed Before my team gets deployed, and shit gets destroyed Life is not to be lost, it's to be enjoyed When lights flash off, ideas get passed off You either doin nothing or you workin your ass off There ain't no in-between, when you intervene Especially when you in the Bean, get blown to smithereens You ain't gotta agree or okay it Disagree with what I say, but respect my right to say it mother- [Hook: Diamond D] (Edo.G) If you listen real close, my nigga, you gon' hear the streets callin (callin) While you stuck in that 9-to-5, we chillin overseas toruin (we tourin) You swear that you rock the spot but, son, your stage show's boring (boring) The answering machine is full so tell these hoes stop callin (stop callin) [Verse Two: Diamond D] When the four-fifths lift, it'll shift all your back discs Iron wrist style with a swift spinnin back fist Knock you off your axis, we do this just for practice Maybe just to keep the skills sharper than the cactus We don't fear none, never shotta fear one Walk through the city, torch your hood with a flare gun In LA, sip Parrot Bay and Lime Rickey Rock Chuckers and crisp Dickies, grinnin and sportin big hickeys Diamond D, Jaysaun, and Edo.G Swiss cheese you with the chrome max for snitchin on them phone taps Organized crime, we buggin on your landlines It's us who booby-trapped your tour bus with the landmines We ride in Mass plates in Celtics jerseys Assassinatin rappers from Cali to the Tri-State You in a deep sleep, physique street sweeped In your Jeep, slumped over in them burgandy seats We gon' miss you [Hook] [Verse Three: Jaysaun] Yo, now when the bulls come runnin, I'ma plead the fifth Screamin out the sunroof like, "Eat a dick!" You can find me at the Four Seasons beatin a chick And I'm old school, I still smoke weed in the flicks So what the fuck y'all want from me? I don't play those games son, nobody gotta front for me You a girly man, couldn't do a 1-to-3 And you'll get it in the back if you run from me Exqui-zy, I'ma raise the stakes I got 'em in the kitchen butt naked, whippin up eggs and steaks And if I, let off two shots, your legs'll break Get my hands on the pipe, give your man a white Niggas heavy on the lactose and light on the raw And you feel like a man when you fightin your whore Gave me a funny look and landed right on the floor And you can still see the knuckle prints right on your jaw [Hook]