Family Thang

(Intro)<br>Nigga<br>Who a real rider is?<br>My family fool!<br>That`s right<br>Puts it down on any hood or clique<br>That`s real trick<br><br>(Verse 1)<br>It`s the young mackola, slangin crack to stackola<br>The chip motorola holds the .44 to blow ya<br>Dohja smoke ignites the fire like lighters<br>The drop 64`s catch the hoes on sighta<br>Let`s take a trip to where the homies puts it down<br>They get (?) and say I never come around<br>But I`m in traffic, tryna make a proper come up<br>Livin in this hell hole makes me wanna blow my dome up<br>My baby mama is more righteous than they come<br>The hood`s on my back, the child support don`t help me none<br>So now I`m on a mission, niggas in my rear view<br>Damn it`s the homie, what the fuck them niggas up to<br>I bust a U. and still the homies on my backside<br>I grab the .44 hit the petrol in a G-O metro<br>And damn, I still got payments on this muthafucka<br>I lost all the hub caps and the homies I don`t trust `em<br><br>(Chorus)<br>Well Young Prod if these niggas start trippin<br>And Twin I got your back too if it`s mo` than two<br>And if it`s mo` than three they gotta fuck with me<br>And that`s how it`s gon swing with this family thang<br><br>(Verse 2)<br>Y`all niggas kill me, feel me down when you up around<br>Clown me, down me when your ass not up around me<br>Now tell me G who`s the fuckin playa hata<br>Mad `cause I put my family up on some paper<br>My homie Joe gave me the `fo on your bitch-ass<br>Hey troop I got your back loc, so won`t you put the smash<br>Down, clowns like you I call haters<br>Mad `cause you jock us but still can`t fade us<br>It`s young trip on a creep as I tips down, man<br>They got nothin to lose but 50 G`s to gain<br>If I maintain a low profile like a Pirelli<br>`Cause niggas be schemin like evil side and wicked dreamin<br>Night after night be havin a nigga straight plottin<br>Like "Oliver Stone" out to get a grip of his own<br>And it`s on and ain`t no fakin niggas out for the takin<br>But if they come at me wrong Rata-tat-tat, ain`t no get bacc<br><br>(Chorus)<br><br>(Verse 3)<br>Now from the gate I gots to skate block to block when I`m swervin<br>Puffin up on that herb and still down for curb servin<br>Cutlass on deck, niggas trip, I`m a winner<br>Khakis and Chuck T`s, gold D`s as I bend the<br>Nigga`s block, batteries hot, lockin a 40<br>Gold Rhimeson packin heat and it`s on<br>Niggas playa hatin `cause I stack the chip, dippin in a C-low<br>Puttin my bang down with my kinfolks<br>I see them half-ass hoes so damn down I used to figure<br>But now I`m hearin shit, it makes me wanna pull a trigger<br>Nigga, I put you down when you had nathin<br>Nigga, but now I`m hearin `bout your playa hatin<br>Rollin in my low-low `64 loc, with my kinfolks<br>Fake-ass locs they get smoked tho`<br>We still deep, we be tight like Vice Grips<br>Collectin chips, dumpin clips on niggas who set trip<br><br>(Chorus)<br><br>(Outro)<br>BiAtch<br>Westside and Eastside<br>Takin your ass on a gangsta ride<br>So peep this shit out nigga<br>It`s the "in-a-cut-gang", baby, baby<br>And it`s the South Central Cartel, baby<br>And it`s the Young Prod thang, baby, baby<br>And all them niggas can`t fade me<br>I`m crazy<br>Yeah, we be puttin it down for the 199-muthafuckin-6<br>You know what I`m sayin?