S.C.G.'Z

Check it out All don't G like we G Evil side on the cut thang S.C.C Y'all don't G... [HAVIKK] 4 deep on the creep, I gots the heat on - We swervin' whip to set trip, regulate your block Turn the 6-4's to low-low's, bangin' for the West Coast What's next? Breakin fools necks like bad checks Outrageous with 12 gauges, L.A. Times front pages Leavin' mingled bodies hangin' on stages Collapse fools with raps, peeelin' caps with straps Twistin' off the bomb, my eyes are tighter than Japs Rollin' evil with the evil side schemin', Young Prod Clipp's the house, oh my God, a homicide! Is about to be committed, admit it, we run thangs Full Clipp from S.C., ready to ride and hoo-bang Competin', strangle the evil with low blows Low low's stay juiced on thick with hell of heat exposed The S.C. script have a design to serve anydody Yeah, West Coast is more feared than John Gotti Chorus... So what you gon' do when you see Them West Coast G's mobbin' 4 and 5 deep And flossin' whips Shake it, shake it babe, West Coast Gangstas 5 deep And that's killa... [PRODEJE] G manouvres, increasin' my retaliation Real killers provoked could equal to your devastation My motivation is lyrication, this philosophation Acquired by the gangsta's inspiration Ready to loc, I'm smokin' tracks like it's (blunted) I'm frontin' 'bout .44 mags and G rags My khakis, t-shirt and Chucks stun ya I zap you like a genie You try to escape like Whodini You plastic I'm boombastic like that mutha... Shaggy The Cartel keeps the groove nasty You tried to fade, but got eleminated, tried the differential But couldn't fade the gangstas gettin' mental Credential, compound exploding through hoods and towns Breakin' it down, the G's is makin' the world go round It's Mr. Prod comin' cutthroat, live like a wire The West Coast G's is on fire Chorus... [HAVOC & YOUNG PROD] Freestylin' to a instrumental, in a rental Q-fo'-fever, evil side finna leave ya Whole hood leakin, blood seekin' for the weekend Headhuntin like a dome-servin' freak and Mental scheme we G's this, we locs like that We grab Macs and reacts to open marks' backs Welcome to the dome of terror, the era of the Evil Side Lay fools out in rhymes like drive-by's Come, come, test this, let's just See yo' face taste ??? then just this No mistakin, not fakin in the field, we're money-makin' We grab the g's, get the ki's and we shake it It ain't too easy to find me Young Prod run games like Jumanji My 9 blow minds everytime I dump Takin' bastards' chests out and lump Evil Side, serve a whole click from the back to the front Don't front, so where ya at? In the back of the homie's 'Lac Cockin' a strap, finna take the funny style off the mat I got your back - back at ya, gangsta Pull the triggers, slugs to bastards' mugs Forever Evil Side, straight bangers Chorus...