Family Thang Lyrics
| Song | Family Thang |
| Artist | South Central Cartel |
| Album | All Day Everyday |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Espree, Pattersan, Pitts, West ... | |
| Nigga | |
| Who a real rider is? | |
| My family fool! | |
| That's right | |
| Puts it down on any hood or clique | |
| That's real trick | |
| [Verse 1] | |
| 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 hoes on sighta | |
| Let's take a trip to where the homies puts it down | |
| They get [?] 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, niggas in my rear view | |
| Damn it's the homie, what the fuck them niggas 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 damn, I still got payments on this muthafucka | |
| I lost all the hub caps and the homies I don't trust 'em | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Well Young Prod if these niggas start trippin | |
| And Twin I got your back too if it's mo' than two | |
| And if it's mo' than three they gotta fuck with me | |
| And that's how it's gon swing with this family thang | |
| [Verse 2] | |
| Y'all niggas kill me, feel me down when you up around | |
| Clown me, down me when your ass not up around me | |
| Now tell me G who's the fuckin playa hata | |
| Mad 'cause I put my family up on some paper | |
| My homie Joe gave me the 'fo on your bitch-ass | |
| 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 niggas be schemin like evil side and wicked dreamin | |
| Night after night be havin a nigga straight plottin | |
| Like "Oliver Stone" out to get a grip of his own | |
| And it's on and ain't no fakin niggas out for the takin | |
| But if they come at me wrong Rata-tat-tat, ain't no get bacc | |
| [Chorus] | |
| [Verse 3] | |
| 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, niggas trip, I'm a winner | |
| Khakis and Chuck T's, gold D's as I bend the | |
| Nigga's block, batteries hot, lockin a 40 | |
| Gold Rhimeson packin heat and it's on | |
| Niggas playa hatin 'cause I stack the chip, dippin in a C-low | |
| Puttin my bang down with my kinfolks | |
| I see them half-ass hoes so damn down I used to figure | |
| But now I'm hearin shit, it makes me wanna pull a trigger | |
| Nigga, I put you down when you had nathin | |
| Nigga, but now I'm hearin 'bout your playa hatin | |
| Rollin in my low-low '64 loc, with my kinfolks | |
| Fake-ass locs they get smoked tho' | |
| We still deep, we be tight like Vice Grips | |
| Collectin chips, dumpin clips on niggas who set trip | |
| [Chorus] | |
| [Outro] | |
| BiAtch | |
| Westside and Eastside | |
| Takin your ass on a gangsta ride | |
| So peep this shit out nigga | |
| 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 niggas can't fade me | |
| I'm crazy | |
| Yeah, we be puttin it down for the 199-muthafuckin-6 | |
| You know what I'm sayin? |
| zuo ci : Espree, Pattersan, Pitts, West ... | |
| Nigga | |
| Who a real rider is? | |
| My family fool! | |
| That' s right | |
| Puts it down on any hood or clique | |
| That' s real trick | |
| Verse 1 | |
| 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 hoes on sighta | |
| Let' s take a trip to where the homies puts it down | |
| They get ? 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, niggas in my rear view | |
| Damn it' s the homie, what the fuck them niggas up to | |
| I bust a U. and still the homies on my backside | |
| I grab the . 44 hit the petrol in a GO metro | |
| And damn, I still got payments on this muthafucka | |
| I lost all the hub caps and the homies I don' t trust ' em | |
| Chorus | |
| Well Young Prod if these niggas start trippin | |
| And Twin I got your back too if it' s mo' than two | |
| And if it' s mo' than three they gotta fuck with me | |
| And that' s how it' s gon swing with this family thang | |
| Verse 2 | |
| Y' all niggas kill me, feel me down when you up around | |
| Clown me, down me when your ass not up around me | |
| Now tell me G who' s the fuckin playa hata | |
| Mad ' cause I put my family up on some paper | |
| My homie Joe gave me the ' fo on your bitchass | |
| 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 niggas be schemin like evil side and wicked dreamin | |
| Night after night be havin a nigga straight plottin | |
| Like " Oliver Stone" out to get a grip of his own | |
| And it' s on and ain' t no fakin niggas out for the takin | |
| But if they come at me wrong Ratatattat, ain' t no get bacc | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3 | |
| 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, niggas trip, I' m a winner | |
| Khakis and Chuck T' s, gold D' s as I bend the | |
| Nigga' s block, batteries hot, lockin a 40 | |
| Gold Rhimeson packin heat and it' s on | |
| Niggas playa hatin ' cause I stack the chip, dippin in a Clow | |
| Puttin my bang down with my kinfolks | |
| I see them halfass hoes so damn down I used to figure | |
| But now I' m hearin shit, it makes me wanna pull a trigger | |
| Nigga, I put you down when you had nathin | |
| Nigga, but now I' m hearin ' bout your playa hatin | |
| Rollin in my lowlow ' 64 loc, with my kinfolks | |
| Fakeass locs they get smoked tho' | |
| We still deep, we be tight like Vice Grips | |
| Collectin chips, dumpin clips on niggas who set trip | |
| Chorus | |
| Outro | |
| BiAtch | |
| Westside and Eastside | |
| Takin your ass on a gangsta ride | |
| So peep this shit out nigga | |
| It' s the " inacutgang", baby, baby | |
| And it' s the South Central Cartel, baby | |
| And it' s the Young Prod thang, baby, baby | |
| And all them niggas can' t fade me | |
| I' m crazy | |
| Yeah, we be puttin it down for the 199muthafuckin6 | |
| You know what I' m sayin? |
| zuò cí : Espree, Pattersan, Pitts, West ... | |
| Nigga | |
| Who a real rider is? | |
| My family fool! | |
| That' s right | |
| Puts it down on any hood or clique | |
| That' s real trick | |
| Verse 1 | |
| 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 hoes on sighta | |
| Let' s take a trip to where the homies puts it down | |
| They get ? 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, niggas in my rear view | |
| Damn it' s the homie, what the fuck them niggas up to | |
| I bust a U. and still the homies on my backside | |
| I grab the . 44 hit the petrol in a GO metro | |
| And damn, I still got payments on this muthafucka | |
| I lost all the hub caps and the homies I don' t trust ' em | |
| Chorus | |
| Well Young Prod if these niggas start trippin | |
| And Twin I got your back too if it' s mo' than two | |
| And if it' s mo' than three they gotta fuck with me | |
| And that' s how it' s gon swing with this family thang | |
| Verse 2 | |
| Y' all niggas kill me, feel me down when you up around | |
| Clown me, down me when your ass not up around me | |
| Now tell me G who' s the fuckin playa hata | |
| Mad ' cause I put my family up on some paper | |
| My homie Joe gave me the ' fo on your bitchass | |
| 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 niggas be schemin like evil side and wicked dreamin | |
| Night after night be havin a nigga straight plottin | |
| Like " Oliver Stone" out to get a grip of his own | |
| And it' s on and ain' t no fakin niggas out for the takin | |
| But if they come at me wrong Ratatattat, ain' t no get bacc | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3 | |
| 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, niggas trip, I' m a winner | |
| Khakis and Chuck T' s, gold D' s as I bend the | |
| Nigga' s block, batteries hot, lockin a 40 | |
| Gold Rhimeson packin heat and it' s on | |
| Niggas playa hatin ' cause I stack the chip, dippin in a Clow | |
| Puttin my bang down with my kinfolks | |
| I see them halfass hoes so damn down I used to figure | |
| But now I' m hearin shit, it makes me wanna pull a trigger | |
| Nigga, I put you down when you had nathin | |
| Nigga, but now I' m hearin ' bout your playa hatin | |
| Rollin in my lowlow ' 64 loc, with my kinfolks | |
| Fakeass locs they get smoked tho' | |
| We still deep, we be tight like Vice Grips | |
| Collectin chips, dumpin clips on niggas who set trip | |
| Chorus | |
| Outro | |
| BiAtch | |
| Westside and Eastside | |
| Takin your ass on a gangsta ride | |
| So peep this shit out nigga | |
| It' s the " inacutgang", baby, baby | |
| And it' s the South Central Cartel, baby | |
| And it' s the Young Prod thang, baby, baby | |
| And all them niggas can' t fade me | |
| I' m crazy | |
| Yeah, we be puttin it down for the 199muthafuckin6 | |
| You know what I' m sayin? |
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