Just get on down [8x]
    [Chorus]
    North, North, South, South, East, East, West, West [4x]
    Shit, Got a nigga gone off a fifth of Fayo and apple juice
  Throw up a deuce, Keep my hat banged to the left and ain't scared to act a fool
  So what you gone do, you betta not speak unless spoken to cause I bust that shit'it
  Dump that Philly, I could back dro wit a lac wit a yak, gettin drunk off in it
  Through the Chi like North, North, South, South
  Niggas talk shit put that work in they mouth
  In the East, East, West, West, niggas bust back put a slug in ya chest
  Cause I'm hood, hood, gutter, gutter
  Shauna got juice like a muh'fucka
  Hood of the hustlas and bloodsuckas
  Back in the bricks wit that good
    [Chorus]
    Fep, in the spot, buyin yak wit my balla camp
  All them bitches holla'n bout is (Where them fuckin dollas at)
  Yeeah, I got them hos, I got them O's, I got Air phones for those hos
  And yeeah, I got white phones, got black phones, I got crack weed in the floor
  So get on the grind, Get on some lime,Get on mine, let ya mind take course
  Got dip in the ride, Switchin the tires, Whippin the fire 85 Chevy Sport
  See if you got 16's, I will make that pliz'ay
  And I'm dressed like a dope boy, throwin up them triz'eys
    East side, whole Masterfield rainbow
  Flight soles, kinda roll where them thangs blow
  Good wood, not wastin that payroll
  Five hos trapped, boys got rapers
  My size got air nigga rep that
  We ride, rock sells and I bet that
  Car is a gutless, pistol is a must bitch
  Let a nigga know that his head I will bust quick
  Some slum niggas know what I'm talkin bout
  Lil rob fillin hos in the parkin lot
  Gimme head while I'm bustin that two track
  It was trill, hit the fence, never looked back
  Big thug, hit clubs in the fifth book
  Dollar Boy, let em know how to rip folk
  If a bitch broke, gotta let her slide, though
  2-0 represent East side ho
    [Chorus]
    Hell, I'm up in the club, 4 whippin up, just throwin up pitch forks to (what, what)
  Tupac, I'm a rider, hoppin out, Gangsta crip disciples (Yeeah!)
  Wilin on the side of the club and dressed in blood colors, waitin on a sign to (Yeeah!)
  Pull out the gats and attack on them boys that thought that
  (they thought it couldn't happen)
  They blastin and screamin, we ain't friends, ain't no need to pretend
  (Shawty!) Split the mens, for my homey that got killed last weekend
  His brains was left leakin while his body got cold
  Now it's y'all life that y'all owe
  Time to even the score, case closed
    [Chorus (2x)]
  [Scratching]