Yeah, that's right, homie
It's that young brownie, Danger Sovereign Mr. Criminal,
I'm about to bust some fools in the motherfuckin' place
Now how these fools claimin'
claimin' that they gangstas
Most fools dropped out the gang,
Run up on a criminal with a steel,
If you ain't talkin' bout bank,
Talkin' like you're tough,
must be dreamin', better wake up
Fast lane smokin' on them
Young brown and dangerous,
banging in your city changing
Holding down the wild west,
ducking from them rangers, strangers
They coming up for an autograph, haters
don't want none of that chatty
Inked up from the front, back balling
Puffing on a fucking hundred sack
Laughing at these little haters,
Ten years I've been snatched,
break the mold, make a chain
These haters want what I got
They hate but want in my spot
All day, every day, till the day that I die
These fiends, they just can't see me
They diss but wanna be me
and my very last breath is that big H
I'm on the top of ten it up, scrap,
Hollow point tips, but they don't know
Bigger heat than the trunk,
Hit it in the studio every time I flow
Microphone one, two, take a hit
fools act like they don't know
Getting paid, talking about
what fools don't know about
From the South of California
And I'm built to represent for my flesh
On my motherfuckin' chest
And they really don't know
So they better hold it back
And I represent the motherfuckin' West
Bringin' gangbang symphonies
And mentally I'm killin' em
Levels, hey, but they don't know
the world while they feelin'
Ten years I've been smashed
Break the mold, make a chain
These haters want what I got
They hate but want in my spot
Till the day that I die, I keep
These fiends, they just can't see me
Till my very last breath,