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bloods - i kame ta bang (bring it on) lyrics

(intro: b-brazy):

-(background “mothaf-cka, bring it on!” vocal scratches)-
woop woop! geah… bang this sh-t n-gga, yeah, bang this sh-t, n-gga

(verse 1: b-brazy):

i shoot the clear red dice with the white dots on ’em, and i’m, on ’em and buckin’ em and don’t n0body wantin’ ’em. see don’t mean i’mma jump on ’em, knock ’em out, dump on ’em, ha. and stomp on ’em with the gangsta boots
y’all n-ggas think y’all cute but y’all broke like me, and no mothaf-cka out there to be my g. and y’all ain’t puttin’ no work since ’83, now fifty sack, any gat, n-gga on me. i be’z, the braziest, n-gga out the back, that put y’all n-ggas out on a rack and buy a sack. i can’t relax, n-gga you wrinkle too much sh-t, the homies die, i c-k ride and all that sh-t. and f-ck a b-tch, that he-say, she-say, sh-t. i’m gon’ be rich for curb servin’ too, i rather do l!cks. and spit this gangsta sh-t to every b-tch i meet, and hit the corner draggin’ and bumpin’ and scr-pin’ the street
still the allstars (inaudible), khakis (inaudible), (inaudible: sl!ck) shirt with two b-ttons, now ain’t that somethin’
ain’t no stoppin’ me n-gga, i still gon’ hang with them lanes, kp and laniak, d.l., goin’ out with a bang, n-gga. for the lanes… -(fading out)-

(verse 2: spyder (sp)):

i can make your heart beat then make it stop, to the streets, everybody shake the f-ckin’ spot
i know you high, but you keep woopin’ and smashin’, strappin’ and blastin’ and always ready for action
-ss-ssins, murderers, k!llas, real dawgs, ready to feel y’all, willin’ to k!ll y’all, bow down, fall, hold up, make a pause… -(spyder blazing that weed)- westside crenshaw mafia
gangsterism comin’, k!llin’, bringin’ flame (inaudible: me), the same young mothaf-ckin’ g, sp, don’t test me. fool i’ll leave you alone, while i woop on the streets, ’til i get (inaudible: dawn), it’s on
and crackin’, like some accidents in yo’ town, can’t you go to (inaudible: hoe), four rounds, you’s a hoe now, oh. take it how you want it b-tch, this is westside, ’til i dizz-ie, i’m hig-zzhie, so (inaudible: wizz-ie)
should not, f-ck it up, like this, comin’ sick, like a g, westside b, i’m comin’ g’d, off the weed. mothaf-ckin’ stress, and i put it to the test, and i don’t give a f-ck, to the motherf-ckin’ heart, the chest
i’m a crenshaw mafia gangsta n-gga, and i bank ya n-gga, i won’t thank ya n-gga. when i gank you for all the sh-t you own this, 10 to 4 mafioso, and n-gga, i’m full-grown dawg, crenshaw mafia fool and i’m comin’ up, with the gangsta sh-t tryna come up, on some f-ckin’ cheese and cabbage, i’m a savage from my cream, the crenshaw mafia gang’s on the scene
lookin’ mean mug, crenshaw mafia blood, i don’t give a f-ck, n-gga. and i bust n-gga, and i don’t trust a, mothaf-ckin’ ruddy-rag b-tch, i’m a sick, mothaf-ckin’ terrorist, when it comes to this, n-gga

(interlude):

-(background “mothaf-cka, bring it on!” vocal scratches)-

(verse 3: lil’ hawk):

now i woke up late, at about noon, realize i had to be in the bottom real soon. n-gga i jumped up out my bed, n-gga my khakis was already creased, woop woop, i got (inaudible: schooled), by my n-gga sp
-(background sp vocals: woop woop!)- gangsta gangsta, that’s what the f-ck, i be yellin’, everytime i be (inaudible: bellin’), n-gga ain’t no mothaf-ckin’ tellin’. when i startin’ to woop woop, n-ggas woop woop wit’ my n-ggas, we don’t be givin’ a mad f-ck, ’cause we them number one crab k!llas that be puttin’ down, worldwide, nationwide too, and, i don’t be givin’ a f-ck ’cause i’m that little damu. -(background sp vocals: woop woop.)- that be representin’ my turf, givin’ it all to the good, ’cause these n-ggas know wh-ssup, n-gga og, inglewood
n-gga, the city of the bloods, ’cause we be dumpin’, havin’ ’em comin’ and breakin’ ’em off, these n-ggas ain’t talkin’ about nothin’. (-background sp vocals)- ’cause they be b-tches to me, straight snitches to me, and y’all be knowin’ about them n-ggas on c-k bentury. (-background sp vocals)- ’cause we be knowin’ for f-ckin’ n-ggas up all the time, n-ggas i (inaudible: bail) down the line with my mothaf-ckin’ nine. n-gga you don’t wanna be me, ’cause n-gga i put it down, from the streets in tv, man you don’t wanna be me
lil’ y.g.b. that be, gangsterism, b-tches all over my nuts straight showin’ me favoritism, but i don’t be givin’ a mad f-ck about no mothaf-ckin’ rag, b-tch i’m here to get my (inaudible: cheese), get the f-ck up off the (inaudible: knees). now please, do you understand, n-gga tryna come with that sh-t, but they can never be the man. my plan is the bombest, and i’m the realest, n-gga from the mothaf-ckin’ inglewood, the (inaudible: bottomsville style), ohh sh-t, i keep it poppin’, ain’t no mothaf-ckin’ stoppin’, up and down the block
kid, now i’m keepin’ it crackin’ like some mothaf-ckin’ yay, spell my name l-i-l h-a-w ends the k, with a bang, n-gga!

(outro):

-(“mothaf-cka, bring it on!” vocal scratches)-
-(background vocals: woop.)-

- bloods lyrics

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