Hey, man
These fuckin' guys scream all of this shit, huh?
They want us to go out and come back in
And start this fuckin' shit all over again, or somethin', huh?
We got the fuckin' money and they don't got the fuckin' stuff?
I tell you man, they fuck with Tray, ayo Daz Dillinger, Corleone (yeah)
They don't know us

Vision eighty-eight kilos of cocaine smack-dead in your face
The street value of that is what you dream to make
Runnin' illegal business, racketeering
Smugglin', doin' things from handling the gun is what they fearin'
Bodyguards and hitmans like some Al Capone shit
Heavy artillery got the cops on my dick
Different locations, spots where it take place
If you short on my money, your ass is gettin' filleted
There's four major gangs that run the city of G's
The Violators, the Gambinos and the Corleones and me
The Violators and Gambinos, they run uptown
Me and my cousin Corleone, we run downtown
Murder's an every day thing in the city
Where you gotta clock chips, jack robberies and doin' hits
Ton, Eighty, and Nate, in charge of the weapons
Hit from verandahs and do our thing unexpected
So we plan a plot with an Uzi and ten shot
Buck 'em 'til they all drop, circle 'round the block
Let 'em have it as soon as they come out
Unload on they ass, commence to takin' 'em out (out)

Throughout the streets of Long Beach
The streets was infested with drugs, dope peddlers and addicts (yeah)
Gangs have taken over seventy-five percent of our town
As the young youth behavior is outrageous with crime
They feel no remorse whatsoever
As the law enforcements have tried to stop the trafficking of drugs
From comin' into our country, but they can't
The murders have increased more than ninety-five percent
And the drug amount of which they make
Is more than seven hundred million dollars
Now wanted by the IRS and we will convict them of tax evasion

I had no choice or remorse when time for puttin' it down
Niggas know the scoop is stupid if they come from my town
I been around since the Jumpstreet makin' it pop
Young crook keepin' hook, nigga shakin' the spot
Had to be a standout not to get ran out
Look for help, you help yourself 'cause ain't no handout
Since the city Long Beach is only Gs and hoes
You hold on your heat for them fiendish foes
Trust, bust, be aware and I ain't your curse
'Cause the niggas that I dared to'll gank you first
Think I might be deceased 'fore I reach my callin'
But long as I'm haulin', my heat I'm stallin' (shh)
I bring it to you hard from the streets of life
Where niggas get rewarded to grief with stripes
Don't speak on the creep, move, fools is listenin'
And war story glory ain't worth the riskin'
Real niggas still get a mob like respect
If you represent your set 'til you bite the deck
Who I be? I'm the Dee, nigga, check the file
Under G you will see not to sweat my style
I'm takin' 'em out

Everybody, okay
Take a good fuckin' look at the bad guy
It's the last time you gonna see a bad guy look like this, huh
You know, I tell you, huh, Corleone

I come through blastin', me as a Downtown Assassin
Mashin', may they rest in peace in they caskets
Shoot 'em down in front of Hassans
Should've known from the gate, who's the baddest
In my zone, Don Corleone, wanted
For the murder of forty men
Ordered to hit and watch him kill again and again
From the U.S. seas I shift ki's, a hundred and twenty plane rides
Multiplied by Gs, eighty-seven point three million in a matter of months
Big business and big dollars is all that I want
I blaze up to celebrate, new empire to make
Toast, 'til we all die, 'til we burst and break
From knives to guns, from the rich to the slums
We ran out of dope, I don't think so, son
While I be gunned by a mark from the enemy park
From daylight to reach dark, gettin' all the clucks to spark
From when I pick 'em off like darts, stab 'em in they hearts
Make an example, what I said, you end up dead
Spray the wall with graffiti like hogs for all my lost dogs
Never reach until I see the blue sky 'til I die
All I ever want is to be left alone
Me, myself, me, my dope, me and my chrome
Got paid by cops and judges, I budge when I buzz
I got the City of Long Beach goin' crazy for drugs

I tellin' you man, we do them good
And they don't do us good back, huh
But you know what a hustle is Don Corleone?
A hustle is a pig that don't fuckin' fly straight, okay?
They wanna play rough, huh? They wanna play rough, okay
Say hello to my little fuckin' friends
Okay, look at you now
You look like the fuckin' cockroaches now
DPG

Copyright: ENTERTAINMENT ONE U.S. LP
Writer(s): Delmar Arnaud, Tracey Davis