Big Syke - 510, 213 lyrics

Hook: 5-1-0 and 2-1-3 is you a baller or a G? Spice 1 Intro: Ha ha ha. To thug or not to thug? To G or not to G? See that's the Question. Everytime I hit L.A. I get love you know cause I'm from the Bay Dub C, Big Syke you know Spice 1. Feel me Spice 1: Count the dollars on the Lexy don't waste your time Let it shine let it shine let it shine Mizzolas and 850 flossin' I'm tossin' Doobies up out the window smokin' often coughin' Chokin' hard up off the indo smoke My mens with extra clips Hennessy Lemon squeeze begin to dip on me The G with the strap up on my side Keepin' these haters apon they toes cause they know I'm ready to ride Hide but you can't get away This is your dead homie you should of put your tool away But you still pull it on me, see I ain't trippin' I got foot soldiers that do dirt for me Love me enough to hurt for me and do some work for me Black roses is sent to the families with all the lives lost k** 'em soft pay off my henchmen like a mob boss Mobster ballin' out the hooptie Who could it be? S.P.I.C.E Hook Big Syke: Sound like baller I'm caught up in troubled times Destiny knows help me free my mind What can I do but stay true and be a man I'm just doin' what I can Migrate to Oakland lay low with my dog Spice Hang out with k**ers and dodge device Gotta pay the price took a life or maybe two (was it two?) I wouldn't of done it if I didn't have to In the wrong place at the right time evil minds learkin' Thought I was over peerkin' searchin' for a home I feel alone On these cold streets, sleepin' on couches with no sheets God guide me hide me from incarceration and start this despiration I'm facin' more time then I really got to give Damn I wanna live in 2-1-3 Hook WC: It's the Dub S.C. on G parolee And although deez steadily grinding for cheese Trunk fulla keys on my way O.T. from 5-1-0 to the 2-1-3 I puts it down bendin' the corner with my all blue Chevy My mind on gettin' the fetti, my heater co*ked back and ready With G's crime related, affilated eyes faded Big bodies paper plated stayin' shaded for federated My crews full of nothin' but riders high off the Remy Chuck Taylors neck pieces and knitted beenies (uh ha) Mashin' on the regular hustlin' day and night Went from chronic to water but now we pushin' the China white Much loved by many but now by many hated Trippin' off the the haters lookin' mad cause we made it But don't get mad at me because I executed the game I got my hustle on loc you can do the same Hook