Check it out

All don't G like we G

Evil side on the cut thang S.C.C.

Y'all don't G...


4 deep on the creep, I gots the heat on -

We swervin' whip to set trip, regulate your block

Turn the 6-4's to low-low's, bangin' for the West Coast

What's next? Breakin fools necks like bad checks

Outrageous with 12 gauges, L.A. Times front pages

Leavin' mingled bodies hangin' on stages

Collapse fools with raps, peeelin' caps with straps

Twistin' off the bomb, my eyes are tighter than Japs

Rollin' evil with the evil side schemin', Young Prod

Clipp's the house, oh my God, a homicide!

Is about to be committed, admit it, we run thangs

Full Clipp from S.C., ready to ride and hoo-bang

Competin', strangle the evil with low blows

Low low's stay juiced on thick with hell of heat exposed

The S.C. script have a design to serve anydody

Yeah, West Coast is more feared than John Gotti


So what you gon' do when you see

Them West Coast G's mobbin' 4 and 5 deep

And flossin' whips

Shake it, shake it babe, West Coast Gangstas 5 deep

And that's killa...


G manouvres, increasin' my retaliation

Real killers provoked could equal to your devastation

My motivation is lyrication, this philosophation

Acquired by the gangsta's inspiration

Ready to loc, I'm smokin' tracks like it's (blunted)

I'm frontin' 'bout .44 mags and G rags

My khakis, t-shirt and Chucks stun ya

I zap you like a genie

You try to escape like Whodini

You plastic

I'm boombastic like that mutha... Shaggy

The Cartel keeps the groove nasty

You tried to fade, but got eleminated, tried the differential

But couldn't fade the gangstas gettin' mental

Credential, compound exploding through hoods and towns

Breakin' it down, the G's is makin' the world go round

It's Mr. Prod comin' cutthroat, live like a wire

The West Coast G's is on fire


[??? & YOUNG PROD]

Freestylin' to a instrumental, in a rental

Q-fo'-fever, evil side finna leave ya

Whole hood leakin, blood seekin' for the weekend

Headhuntin like a dome-servin' freak and

Mental scheme we G's this, we locs like that

We grab Macs and reacts to open marks' backs

Welcome to the dome of terror, the era of the Evil Side

Lay fools out in rhymes like drive-by's

Come, come, test this, let's just

See yo' face taste ??? then just this

No mistakin, not fakin in the field, we're money-makin'

We grab the g's, get the ki's and we shake it

It ain't too easy to find me

Young Prod run games like Jumanji

My 9 blow minds everytime I dump

Takin' bastards' chests out and lump

Evil Side, serve a whole click from the back to the front

Don't front, so where ya at?

In the back of the homie's 'Lac

Cockin' a strap, finna take the funny style off the mat

I got your back - back at ya, gangsta

Pull the triggers, slugs to bastards' mugs

Forever Evil Side, straight bangers


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