Lamarr Gunderson

I'm in a cut late night about twelve o'clock
I see some brothas bustin' caps in a parkin' lot
There go my homie rollin' up in a black Vette
Nuthin' but the money for the paycheck
Another day a brother dead in the alleyway
That's what the boys in the Bay up in Cali say
The California life, task in the palm trees
Brothers be clockin' g's, slangin' keyes
Up in my neighborhood
In my neighborhood


clockin g's slangin ki's

finna get racks

Lamarr Gunderson a écrit:

finna get racks

finna get racks act 2

All I ever wanted
To count all this guap
All I ever wanted
Was a hundred fuckin' bricks & a hundred fuckin' licks
All I ever wanted
Was a bad lil bitch do anything to get me rich
All I ever wanted
For my mama to be straight & I can get this cake
All I ever wanted
To call up my plug and I ain't gotta wait

all i ever wanted

Cash rules everything around me
C.R.E.A.M. get the money
Dolla dolla bill y'all

cash rules everything around me

run run run from the ghetto bird


Why, oh why must you swoop through the hood
Like everybody from the hood is up to no good
You think all the girls around here are trickin
Up there lookin like Superchicken
At night I see your light through my bedroom window
But I ain't got shit but the pad and pencil
I can't wait till I hear you say
"I'm going down, mayday, mayday." I'm gonna clown
Cause everytime that the pigs have got me
Y'all rub it in with the flying Nazi
Military force, but we don't want ya
Standin' on my roof with the rocket launcher
"So fly like an eagle."
But don't follow us wherever we go
The shit that I'm saying, make sure it's heard
Motherfuck you and your punk-ass ghetto bird

Run, run, run, from the ghetto bird

Looked up and didn't see it whippin' in the sky
Saw a chopper with numbers on the bottom
"Calling all cars, I think we've got em."
I hit the gas and I mashed past Inglewood
I think I drove through every single hood
South Central, Compton and Watts
Long Beach, bust a U, here come the cops
Wish I had a genie with about three wishes
Metal flake green on D's I look suspicious
You know that I'm running
Shit, I hear it humming
Fuck, I see it coming
Is it a bird? Yup
Is it a plane? No
I hit me a right on El Segundo
Wanted to holla, had to ditch the Impala
Let's see if they would folla
Me, hit a fence, hit a fence, and another
Met me a baby pitbull and his mother
Ran up in some peoples house and looked out of the window
I wish it was my kinfolk
Had to pull a strap on a fool named Louis the Third
Cuz I'm getting chased by the ghetto bird

handlin biness

movin packs act 2

we washin them dishes,
it's how i'm gettin mine.


we washin dem dishes

to the good

gettin it

gee's in my pocket

count all this guap

BUSTED! (<- clique pour la vraie taille).

Enorme la série, continue comme ça.

sin money (<- taille originale)