Kokane - Street Kings lyrics

Feat. Babee Loc, Tha Xtraz & E3 (Verse: Eazy-E) I neva drink, bra** monkey, all about my money Nickname Zy-3, that OG cush junkie Eyes bloodshot red, I'm highly medicated A n***a's still hurt cause my pops didn't make it Seven years old, but I was ? Raised white, disagree but you can go to hell Living independently never start to fail me Cops gave me a tip, now I'm chasing that money trail I gotta get it cause you know that clock is tickin' Make sure that my son got a pot to piss in Meet manglin', hustlin', f**in' I do things my way, you can't tell me nothin' Straight off the motherf**in' streets, a target Easy does it, yeah, you know we still stompin' sponsored links k**s of the streets, well known as it seems Sum it up, you can call us street kings, n***a (Hook) No threat no cuts on my essay f** and murder the Compton, west side L.A. West Coast just can't be touched Stand in the air if you don't give a f** Hustlin', pimpin', swaggin', thuggin' One hit of this good sh** gonna make you choke We run sh** for Doc da Bloc West Coast n***as just can't be stopped (Verse) We dun get ol, darti bus man turp tiia Wi don hav a lung, brai matta it aligal Nepa won pan chea, tea fea Bot em pan di run e godo Di street kings dun come wit no pay Dem do wit man de mah shae Shaw dem maneske to det one fadeste Wo deste to man di pullin o life ago Sage, comin o long talk, possin o quotation Inna di man squa detena ma scuart some On my rit pin black on di reast eas e Se wa a dim p**y seme wo dem street kings (Hook) No threat no cuts on my essay f** and murder the Compton, west side L.A. West Coast just can't be touched Stand in the air if you don't give a f** Hustlin', pimpin', swaggin', thuggin' One hit of this good sh** gonna make you choke We run sh** for Doc da Bloc West Coast n***as just can't be stopped (Verse: Kokane) Thirteen years strong, now I'm on, so you gon' respect me I'm so sick that I got AIDS scared to catch me Cause I ain't nothin' less that good, b**h, I'm simply great It's the legendary Kokane, or MCO Extras, real loses, you don't move till I say so Gimme three months, I'mma have Obama on the payroll My ? from Mexico better give me them pessos My yungins with the field bullsh**, callin' torpedoes When I hustle, break up the head and I spit blood All my money in the bank, watch how that sh** stack up Crippin' be for pimpin', please willie n***a back up I'mma Street king, even neon thing, I'mma neat truck (Hook) No threat no cuts on my essay f** and murder the Compton, west side L.A. West Coast just can't be touched Stand in the air if you don't give a f** Hustlin', pimpin', swaggin', thuggin' One hit of this good sh** gonna make you choke We run sh** for Doc da Bloc West Coast n***as just can't be stopped