The R.O.C. - They Call That Gangsta lyrics

[Verse 1: Blaze] Top down, b**hes drop down to their knees When they're in the midst of some real G's Real G sh** - AK's with banana clips Bring out the inner gorilla you son of a b**h I'mma take a big hit, hold it in, let it go Inhale, exhale, only marijuana smoke No joke, man I ain't even laughing Ain't no time to argue, squeeze a trigger and let the gun blast All my hitters and b**hes and real k**ers and drug dealers I hold it down for you cause I be a vandetta in G flag Of what color b**h you look at me sideways I cut your eye out with a box cutter See me dog no collar, no chain And my bark and bite are equal so they one and the same I ain't new to the game so don't play a punk with me Grab your toilet paper cause I turn your whole life sh**ty [Hook: (The R.O.C.) & Blaze] (They call that gangsta) What I'm doing, who I be Ain't nobody dead or alive even f**ing with me (Gangsta) Born in the back of a lowrider with hydraulics and spokes And them low pro tires Baptizin' 40's behind the liquor store With my young G's, so we dreamin of gettin more [?] (Gangsta) [Verse 2: The R.O.C.] That's what you call gangsta, y'all RuPauls No balls when we check of your sh** you guys are too small We move off in the direction, with less stress and more s**in' From the section, that means your woman are now our lesson Me and Blaze don't check, they want 'em down Collect what it gotta be in our circle of this sh** No sweatin', these s**as know all occasion Cause punks they get their hatin' We sprayin' at the sweater We got a Satan at gun point already Let it rain confetii, if you dead and gone that's savvy We skeet off in them pirellis Them boys were never jelly We shoot it out, get burried I'm mashin', pumping out in my box chevy like who's ready? My belly always stuffed with chumps - I eat em up With their luck so what, we're never help you ain't born tough Note to self, you see me head down, let's talk I'm beating my chest, I'm worldwide you can't get enough [Hook] [Verse 3: Lex The Hex Master] Too many wa*kstas ? and prankstas Not enough gangstas, gun bu*ters and shankstas Tell me what you bang for, I'm pulsin' these n***as anger These fists cuffed tangler the Queens got me strangler Lex the Hex Master, trenching the necks ba*tard Claiming he drops cla**ics, smack 'em back to Jura**ic Practicin' black magic while makin' factory caskets I'll leave gash, stickin' and movin' just call me Ca**ius We're not affiliated, packin' heavy radiator Sorry, real G's don't find skinny jeans intimidating All initiated cowards get asphyxiated Flow's sophisticated so Lex is highly anticipated Faith tainted, my face painted, I must be sick Maintained to stay faded to f** a b**h And by that time next year they y'all know me Hex the Master, The R.O.C. and Blaze ya Dead Homie [Hook]