Black six-four, gold Daytons roam
And hit the block non stop nigga straight out bone
And just passing through, didn’t have no strap
Point my finger at your asses says smoke like that
Hit your enemy block, rolling four cars deep
Two Chevs, one 'Lac and a IROC-Z
Riding low shotgun gauge ready to peel
Windows down, top drop, bumpin' Realer Than Real
Hit the block, gauge cocked, hangin' over the do'
Seven shot, one squeeze, ride pump, ya know?
Never slip in the streets of the Garden Block
'Cause muthafuckas get smoked a lot
Hit the flow and I come, you try to run you get gunned down
Four deep on the creep, I’m about to put your ass to sleep
And ain’t no sense in locking up the door
'Cause one kick from one the cliques we'll be in that hoe
So make way as I unload my A-K on your house
Then degrade as I take one of your closest family members out
It’s the Bo, I thought you knew, oh punk you didn’t know?
Well meet my forty-four (four, four, four, four)
Face to face we shoot out with the next hood
On the creep, they say the Bo-loc’s no good
And it’s your ass that got me pulling a mask, popping a cap
Want me to tap daddy on that ass with my mask?
It’s all for one and one for all
Fucking with the Bo and I'll be bustin' and getting AWOL
Pulling a gat, going in for the big Jack
Caught them fools on they back
Woke them up with the mac, now give me the scrap
'Cause that’s how we living in ninety-three
I watch my back plus I’ll be strapped 'cause ain’t no jacking see
So don’t try, this punk tried denyin' I knew was lying
I started firing, now one at a time they all retirin'
Close range, living in strange, can’t be tame
I pull the mac and take the police out the fucking game
I been a slave, and I ain’t going back
Police jacked with the intentions to sendin' it back
