it up
Yo, when I roll you the cats be out So you cowards got no but to rat me out I call in the pen to try to see what that be 'bout 'Cuz I catch a slip and yo, his ass is out
Hud, on the low, pop two cops Thug, against all odds, Tupac I'm up, dog-tired from Jacob Platinum, reach for it then up
For top dollar yo, I squeeze my And Lord knows, I'll lead this 'Cuz I'm for whatever Matter of fact, I'm for the cheddar Try to and get yo' ass layed down forever
Niggas to see a G come up Young niggas run up get gun up That's the real, seen the pass the steel wink and yo' ass get killed, all out
This is for the Six-fo' riders, all ones are low riders All smokers, Olde E sippers All homies, and O.G. nigga's, throw it up This is for the Six-fo' riders, all them are low riders blued out or flamed out Mask on, with them big things out, yay a yay
Light up the ba-ba, ask yourself, why try? Touch the untouchable brotha in front of you Harlem U.S.A be the place I come from and Lenox be that place I get the guns from Vacant lots be the route we used to run from Thirty-second precinct Jackie caught the dum-dum
It's hot now, now, all out gotta eat Close shop down, send them across the street My force 'cuz the cause is cheap Reminiscin' all my homies that I on the streets Dos Bruce, LB and Stevie D Pour some liquor out and it up for a G NRB, be the click they to be So if worse come to worse, do the for me
is for the know-knotters Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low All weed smokers, Olde E All dead homies, and O.G. nigga's, it up This is for the Six-fo' riders, all them are low riders blued out or flamed out Mask on, ridin' with them big out, yay a yay
Now, we drink '45, tote 45's Smoke we high, loc til' we die Got locked up in said, "Foo, what you in for?" Jail mental', Wendel Did 15, and got about 10 Oh, he was silent braille In '83 was the first with
Caught his first bid dealin' narcotics And had Day tons and always 'em polished You taught me about khakis and And if a foo' try to then you ball first, feel me? But now I'm stackin' my Back in the trick, out a day early is a slap on the wrist But one never sleep on it I went Harlem to L.A. fool, so speak on it
is for the know-knotters Six-fo' riders, all ones are low riders All weed smokers, E sippers All dead homies, and O.G. nigga's, it up This is for the Six-fo' riders, all ones are low riders blued out or flamed out Mask on, with them big things out, yay a yay
is for the know-knotters Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low All smokers, Olde E sippers All homies, and O.G. nigga's, throw it up is for the know-knotters Six-fo' riders, all them are low riders Whether out or flamed out Mask on, with them big things out, yay a yay