Yeah, you motherfuckers already know,
what the streets created,
but they still can't fade it
Bought a silver they classed
Elevated to the top of this rap shit
Bout to fuck around and drop
Haters be getting their ass kicked,
Still on top like no doubt,
when HBG's all up in the scene
When 30 cars be rollin' deep,
Just duffin' to be my stucco
between the good and evil light
Still clutchin' the grease,
still lovin' the studio late at night
Bumpin' around, just puffin' the grease,
still droppin' the trash like
trippin' and breakin' the stress
Lookin' at seven and kissin' all
Southern killer, California,
the spot where I grew up at
Where homies get jumped into the bottles
Still these haters imitate it,
but they still can't fade it
I'm what these fuckin' streets created,
I'm what the streets created,
what the streets created, that's it
I'm what the streets created,
what the streets created, that's it
I'm what the streets created,
what the streets created, that's it
I'm what the streets created
flow it through my veins,
still give it up to all those mother
fuckers that can say the same
You know my name is Mr. Chris,
I spell it with a capital C
still give it up, my mentality
the same but deeper stab for me
a new, high power masterpiece
Still these haters cannot last with me
And if these vaulters run up,
I'll quickly catch a tragedy
Because they're trying to grasp
while I'm just chillin, laughing, G
They been clever, they gonna blast it, G
I'm posting up in Hawaii,
All I do is laugh at these
Waitin' for the perfect time
to bring you vinyls to your knees
States that they don't represent
these Southern California streets
What the streets created,
that's the part motherfuckin' three
I'm what the streets created,
I'm what the streets created,
I'm what the streets created,
I'm what the streets created,