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bloods & crips - send that crab off to die lyrics

[verse 1: batman]
now as im maxin’, relaxin’ at the pad
i’m mad smokin’ on the fifty sack, on the phone with a gangsta wrap, he said he had a lick with some birds. he said ‘im wid it, come pick me up now, what are we gonna split it”. 50/50 in half, we wrote the money in the go-to, and it got caught up in a twist and anyone, i was jackin’ fools. i told gangsta rap to bring his shit yo: i keep a glock, he brought the k with the hundred round clip
f-ck this, im paranoid, im smokin weed i caint think, i need a drink, stop at the liquor store to get me a night drink
it’s on, we goin on a mission, ak/glock45 boy, ya comin up missin when you dont listen. you think its a game cuz its drastic, you thinkin my pistols fake because it looks plastic
caskets are holden ya chizzles, what you get
now get back, you better off dead, so you can die b-tch
mother hustlin mother f-cker fool you betta die b-tch

send that crab off to die x2

now when i peep crabs deep, i creep real slow, if they rollin’ down figaro, most times they show
smoke like a blunt, or a hoe with gonorrhea, my 21 shot glock 9 millimeter, already c-cked, hollows ready to spit. they shit housin bricks, crab b-tch i got an extra clip
down like a mothaf-cka’, jackin suckas with bustas, you ain’t ck ride n-gg-, f-ck ya!
flam dont promotin bloods, every night if they rollin with devil and gangsta bloods and mafias doin ck’s. redrum
rolled off a lil stretch from the east side, on the beast side with the west side lettin it be known worldwide that the east side, west side young blood gangstas smoke crabs for fun, no guns, i gotta shank ya
make ya say uh he sank my battleship, it ain’t no shame in my game, i bang and slang em to the opposite side of that crab shit, and i think its about time i correct that crab b-tch. b-tch dont know pirus or bloods, wanna rep the crabs? i put the beast side on the seaside, on my bangin on wax

got a little pala, cuz im a baller, the shot caller, make me act a f-ckin fool, when im smokin water, pop. my mind just clicked
i never saw malakachis hit, plus my boys got busted, and im hopin they dont snitch, cuz at the pad i got 6 birds plus 200 sack, a hundred thousand unda my bed. crispies and twenty stacks
i cause a rack from their own m&p, to brang the ammunition an we get that tec 9 on a mission to k!ll. so what? im a murderous shit. you f-ck with me, ill have your head, and have your whole family hit. b-tch i k!ll for money like al capone, straight laced no cut, conversations on the phone, drug deals and b-tches, and threats “if you dont pay, don’t play with my money, motherf-cker, youll get blown away”
cuz im the type of n-gg- dat be makin my paper, convict, lunatic, straight k!lla in a red trick
and a b-tch will get pumped full of lead, thats why i k!lled my ex wife. cuz i caught her givin head to some punk motherf-cker from my home town, both hit the ground “pop pop pop pop” whats the sound? huh. from a 45 glock that i was bustin when i do dat real gangsta shit
you can die b-tch
mother hustlin motherf-cka boi you better die b-tch
send that crab off to die 2x

wait for my big break, so i can take in a dash, still starvin, a hunger for cash. i tweek deep when i think about my income, i gotta get a couple hunnid thou and then some. spent some on some yay, play to feel like pete rhodes, sprinkle some on some hoes, put on and buy some new clothes, and if ho got beef and they want a baby, i bend my middle to my thumb and fold my pinky
im dog, caint no crab whoop me. i f-ck my b-tch, she givin birth to my puppy. gettin all swole, doin pushups, a hunnid a set, nothin nice on the dice, collectin on side bets
and now my point is 8, and thats easy to make, 6 deuce get loose and thats the money i take. shake the spot, the pockets hot from holdin the grip, yg dog im out for the chips

send that crab off to die x2

now let me take this gang shit to another level. it’s that brazen n-gg-, mixin dart and strollin’ with the devil; gettin ready for a homicide, so when you bee me and my red friend, get ready to hide. blood, we on a f-ckin mission, makin dates for (c)rips to be dressed by a mortician, and you know how the hunnids do it, set trippin -ss bloods lookin for some ship to step to it. jizaam i think we found somethin, three crabs in a regal finna turn off on bompton, oh yeah we gots to get em, i grab my glock i bust shots at yo wig blood i gotta split em. and thats the real the realest so take it from a thug

send that crab off to die x a couple times

wise up n-gg-, ay yo watch the dopefiend, ay yo yo mane you ancho(chipotle). ygb west side devil ain’t gangsta. something something something ssomething because we got ridaz, theyre sittin on things. so b-tch back the f-ck on up, and yet this young gangsta blood grab the mic and go nuts

coming right back at ya, n-gg- its the hogsta, west side englewood, crenshaw market. its the m and the l, l and the m, n-gg- dont stop, as i barrels up the block with my hand on my glock. and this little n-gg-, he plays what, he plays the n-gg- with the mothaf-ckin gun. sucka punk crash for the cmg, dlb, you n-gg-s can’t f-ck with uhh mee?

- bloods crips lyrics

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