Where my at? Where them red and flags, where that good at? Somebody tell them hood to come up front And let the club know I'ma smoke my blunt, green, weed green, hood black, heart black And never let 'em see you live, where you park at Never let 'em know how you get it just squash Never let the ride long, go squash that You can it out or go and peace it up If we was in I would make you give your sneakers up 'Cause I'm a and I spray shit 44 make niggaz like crawfish you seafood, so go on sleep with 'em I don't trust no niggaz, I eat with 'em Matter fact, I'ma keep it street 'em I don't like his style, I don't even with him I keep it G the get-go Real and I let my shit blow You don't wanna get your broke I got the hawk, you don't wanna get your shit Yeah, uh, where my at? Where red and blue flags, where that good at? Where vanillas? Where that sticky? Where my right hand man the blicky? Somebody tell them hood rats to come up And let the know I'ma smoke my blunt Bitch, ain't Gucci, this ain't Prada This shit I'm fuckin' with them niggaz say "Nada" Hey yo, it's never be another Shocked the world with the half face cover Clip on top of each other, now wanna listen to the Sheek Funny I'm on the watchin', 'Get Him to the Greek' Twenty thousand when I land just to listen when I Bully, he in my somewhere, he like to eat 'I Get High' high P's song That's why my shades on, used to be in love with Nia Donny ain't around now I'll talk 'bout Cong means more bitches more haters on my song But I don't go and forth, me no ping-pong Donny at your like Avon, ding dong Yeah, me and my E Pop things off on your block then later we pop klikko Hah, ain't it? If you can paint a bigger picture, go 'head and pain it Yeah, uh, where my at? them red and blue flags, where that good at? Where them vanillas? Where that Where my right hand man the blicky? Somebody tell them hood rats to come up And let the know I'ma smoke my blunt Bitch, this ain't Gucci, this ain't This street shit I'm with them niggaz say "Nada" Bang them white boys in mosh pits Hach-too spit on favorite rapper, he's not shit My is colossus for the prelude, one for the process Perform with a of fully loaded objects Make it clearer than Podus I'm reachin' for my 'cause I hear it before it ring I'm reachin' for my gun I hear it before it ring In the hood, I'm a Phantom verbal, demolition in the booth Slicker than the oil that you get at the Chrome with the conehead in the goose Addin' in the coupe, what I shoot Get in a axe and some matches and a noose You have no idea on the I produce 'Til it's way too late the brain on your shoes Yeah, uh, where my at? Where them red and blue flags, that good at? Where them vanillas? Where that Where my hand man with the blicky? Somebody tell them hood to come up front And let the club I'ma smoke my blunt Bitch, this ain't Gucci, ain't Prada This street shit I'm fuckin' them niggaz say "Nada"