Flip the switch in the 6-2 Chevy rag
With the blue bandana, that's my flag
Creased up, I got to represent tight
There's a gangster party in the hood tonight
Hit up the dopeman
Have the chronic listo
Dip to the liquor store, three cases of pisto
Got to give it up to the riders on these blocks
Homie, make your money
Fool, fuck the cops
Cause those punk lops want to see us all in the pen
Get swoll, hit parole, hit the streets again
Chrome twenty inch rims hittin' three-wheel motion
With O.G. Playboy, fool we're straight westcoastin'
Playboy ripping on a song with Payaso
Sippin' some Coronas while I'm contemplating my flow
The pad's full of smoke
So you knowing that we all slow
Six in the morning about the time that we all go
Its about time that we hit you with some new shit
Low Profile on collabo with the Dukes Click
And we all drunk
Smoking so we all high
Southern California, Low Pro, so we all ride
The house be jumpin', the party be crackin'
Your ladies be cackin', we stackin', so you know we mackin'
And I'm a play this so you know I'm attackin'
I'm the G you heard of
I be makin' it happen
Where my homies at?
Where my riders at?
Throw up your gang signs and grab your straps
Ghetto platinum plaques
From the heat we drop
Its six in the morning and that party don't stop
That's the way true riders ride
Put your hands in the air
Wave from side to side
Who gives a fuck if the roof's on fire
Grab the weed so we can all get higher
Roll it up and pass me the lighter
San Diego and the Inland Empire
S.G.V. to Los
We represent the most
It's a gangster party, so let's have a toast
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
"Gangsters" as written by David Greenslade
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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