I keep
it gangsta with two pistols,
I could make you dance
to leave you crippled.
Standing on the block with
a beam and a treble.
On the real, I've been on the bus
like a teenager with pimples.
Ever since my adolescence,
money and gunplay
are the only two things that made sense.
Knew my destiny was
bangin' since the playpen
Hit the state pen an d got laced
by some A -men
Sometimes I can't
believe the cinnamon
Head smellin' with a Mac
11 under my Pendleton
Vodka and orange juice with
a little bit of cinnamon
Two -striker, homie,
I ain't tryin' to hit the pen again
Eastside us, empire riders
Screamin' fuck my enemies
and all these haters
Keepin' it solid like concrete
While you soft like some downulators
You can try if you want,
but you can never fade us
Homie, we all play
In the land of the sick,
run your mouth, you can't eat me
California, ay
The Golden State,
where we put it down the West Coast way
Homie, we all play
You'll find out real quick who's
listening shit
California, ay
I'ma always represent it
to my judgment day
Listen up homies,
from them yos's to them OG's
We don't play everyday,
rolling in them cold streets
From west of LA, to east side of IE
Homies just don't play,
that's why they just don't try me
We rollin' 5 deep,
rollin' in a black caddy creepin'
Hollaboy tips hittin' bottles
till they fuckin' sleepin'
Gang unit people trippin' on
these brown thugs
Middle fingers up, best to fuck em,
they get no love
How they gonna hate on these bottles?
Mr. Criminal hooked up with the
homies from the sopper
We put it down, town to town,
fathers gettin' clowned
Find out we don't play,
when you catch these Hollaboy grounds
They found, they couldn't keep
some solid bottles down
Never fallin' on these feet,
planted on the ground
These clowns found out that
these homies don't play
Roll your little bucket through the hood,
it's gettin' sprayed, homie
Homie, we don't play
In the land of the sick, run your mouth,
can't hit me California, ay
The Golden State,
where we runnin' down the
West Coast way
Homie, we don't play
You'll find out, real hype,
blue lipstick shit
California, ay
I'ma always represent it
to my judgment day
We don't play like them
kids on a sunny day
So in California,
you gotta watch what the fuck you say
A lot of dirty hinders on me,
so watch where you lay
All the weak will get ate up
like some Frito -Lays
I'ma stay with the same clique,
never gonna change this
Ridin' with my boys,
so there's gotta be a full clip
Loose lips, go ahead and miss
me with that bullshit
I'm movin',
somethin' sorta like a big train
Across the tracks,
where we gotta keep that good name
Already got a whole lotta hood fame
We gotta put these rappers to the side
like loose chains
Or roll em up,
smoke em up like some Mary Jane
Mr. Criminal on the track,
you know it's official
It's kinda like shootin' at
your fools with a missile
You know you're fucked
by the sounds of the whistle
So here we come, load it up,
we're gonna get you
Hom ie, we don't play
In the land of the sick, run your mouth,
you can't hit me California
The Golden State,
where we put it down the
West Coast way
Homie, we don't play
You'll find out real quick
who's lipstick shit
California
I'ma always represent it
to my judgment day
This gang bang shit, yeah,
blood's in my blood
The way I was raised,
I was bound to be a thug
Ball head tatted with my face all mud
I'm a G from the turf,
I don't show no love
Bandits east side,
where them killers reside
California crazy and I'm quick to ride
A real low G, so I'll never retire
I gotta keep it true, I could never be a liar
Full -blooded frog until my life expires
Where violence is constant
and a stripe is compatible
Livin' on the edge in
the Three Strikes Capital
Moms couldn't stop me,
gang tats neither
Thought I was Scarface
when I got my first heater
They shot me to the pen,
got stretched for ten
Refused to deuce cause
real G's don't bend
Back on the streets, fuckin' up again
Homie, we don't play
In the land of the sick,
run your mouth, you can't get me
Telephone, I ain't The Golden State,
where we put it down,
the West Coast way
Call me, we don't play
You'll find out real quick
Who's lipstick shit
Telephone 9 -8
I'mma always represent it
to my judgment day
Mr. Criminal 
