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south central cartel - no get bacc lyrics

[ verse 1: young prod ]
if any crew wanna mad-dog, if you look it’s on
i got this .44 chrome spittin at your dome
comin from the shoulders, droppin m-th-f-ckas like boulders
rollin with my chip motorola
blazer all f-cked but i ain’t walkin
head feelin light cause my stomach startin to talkin
as i roll by hoes yellin out: “star!”
but i yell back: “b-tch, look at the car!”
you seen me in a video, don’t think that i hustle
stressin so bad, make me wanna jack russell
i dropped outta high school askin where the money at
‘man, it’s in the rap game’ – now it ain’t no get back
‘homie f-ck that, where y’all from, loc, you bangin?
i thought the cartel were some 87 gangsters’
look homie, i’m a player and i ain’t got time
two steps back, buck you dead in your eye, eye, eye…

[ chorus: young prod ]
if you trip off your mouth and my strap’s in my lap
it ain’t no get-back, prepare for your casket
nutsh-ll n-z-, the s.c.c.
persist to get p-ssed on, get yo buster -ss on

[ verse 2: prode’je ]
should i bomb? yo, let’s commence to kill a
p-ssy–ss n-gg-s talkin bout they pullin triggers
we got the back streets sowed up
live on luck will leave your -ss f-cked, n-gg-, hold up
you pickanannies be talkin plenty bullsh-t
but you ain’t sh-t when it’s time to get with
real n-gg-s from the s.c.
i peel your cap off
n-gg-, now turn that m-th-f-ckin rap off
5’8″ with a big stick
m-th-f-ckas try to run but i’m comin at that -ss quick
i’m so bad i kick my own -ss
you disrespect me and i be gettin wreck just like a plane crash
dash, i have your -ss burnin like some hash
ash, you see a mash, then you hear the blast
ask the prod what that be like
i tell you gangster, now you know it’s all to the g right

[ chorus ]

[ verse 3: havikk the rhime son ]
it’s ninety-m-th-f-ckin-six, gees finna ride and slide
cartel gang down to hoo-bang in a five
n-gg-s gettin twisted but i don’t give a f-ck about a buster
cartel till i die, m-th-f-cka
a n-gg- dressed thuggish, postin with the heater
decapitate yo dome with this nine millimeter
‘draulics on amp, the -ss is on call
hit the second switch, b-tch, post my d’s on the wall
chuck t’s posted on the curb
‘yac in my palm and i’m chokin off that herb
i swerve back to the 9 block, pager goin wicked
check my phone book for a b-tch who wanna kick it
diarrhea-at-the-mouth m-th-f-ckas better ease up
s.c.g.’s regulatin fools g’s up
rhime son, n-gg-, on deck puttin it down for the set, loc
mobbin murder deep with my kinfolk

[ chorus (repeated till end) ]

- south central cartel lyrics

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