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mr. criminal - new west lyrics
[bigg steele]
bigg steele the godfather
ridin’ shotgun with my homeboy, mr. criminal
let’s make these b-tch -ss motherf-ckers bow down to kiss the pinky ring
g. malone in the buildin’
[demon criminal]
ha ha ha ha ha ha
yeah
that’s right, homie
it’s that new west coast sh-t
now what you got right here
is from cash money
hi power
hoo bangin’
s.j.c. entertainment
crimelab
collaboration, homie
ha ha ha
yeah
hey gl-sses
let ’em know
[verse 1: gl-sses malone]
f-ck one point seven
g. malone still a criminal (still)
a motherf-ckin’ rider like capone steal a criminal (yeah)
talk that drug sh-t
i don’t ever speak in general
i’m talkin’ sherm sh-t
born a pro at mixing chemicals (whoo!)
switch hittin’ god, i’m a lowride machine
almost done with my deuce (that b-tch is southsider clean)
yo, the southsider clean?
from the roof to the feet (d-mn)
f-ckin’ j-ps wanna buy it for whatever hit the street (okay)
only black rapper with the latin respect
cause i’m a real dope boy
with a latin connect (uh hun)
plus i roll through patrol, and on my lap is a tech
lookin’ for pinche puto
put the strap to your neck
blaow!
why won’t you talk sh-t now (hun?)
p-ssy n-ggas kind of quiet
won’t talk so loud (d-mn)
man, i’m good in any ese hood
cause i’m a ride for hi power like the trece would
n-gga
chorus: mr. criminal
i put four fingers up, two twisted with the thumbs cuff
put them dubs up
you know what’s up
four fingers up, two twisted with the thumbs cuff
put them dubs up
you know what’s up
it’s all eyes on me
when i ride with heat
on the side of me
it’s all eyes on me
when i ride with heat
on the side of me
[verse 2: bigg steele]
we don’t wear tight jeans, n-ggas dress ’em like women
we rock c0ke white tees, a sag and a denim
the game all twisted, rep a sag like b-tches
i kick that g sh-t
live and unscripted
n-ggas stick to makin’ fl!cks, reality ain’t shoot
lames been reppin’ the c0ke since nine deuce
i down with the prez and that new west sh-t
whoever don’t like it, bite this new west d-ck
n-ggas can’t ban me
i’m a boss with minds
so their n-gga can’t stop it when i push the line
been down with criminal since scandalous thump
i could give a feez, n-gga, ’bout you scandalous punks
b-tch n-ggas bow down, kiss the ring, let’s get it
til ya lips turn blue like you’re l.a. fitted
you clowns ain’t no riders, g-ngb-ngin’ on stage
pull my d-ck up out my drawers, i bust a nut on your braids
repeat chorus
[verse 3: mr. criminal]
if i could spit fairy tales, criminal issues the fact
comin’ up from the west southern side of the tracks
not gl-sses, but a criminal got that ryder music
and them riders use it
catch ’em ridin’ to it
from the
sursider califas where them riders packin’ ’em heaters
cortez
creased khakis, black glocks and white beaters
light green sticky
rollin’ down the 60
110, 605, 101, come and get me
san diego, inland empire
los and orange county
knee deep in this california life is how you found me
homies rollin’ in them avalanches, you
conned an alley
stretched out ex-scourges
ese, this is k!ller cali
home of n.w.a
eazy e and 2pac
snoop dogg, dr. dre, dogg pound and mr. d.o.c
elbows up
side to side, the west coast pop lock
g. malone
bigg steele
criminal smokin’ that cali crops
only the bombest
rollin’ with k!llers that’s quick to bomb sh-t
in every single lakeside barrio, it’s my accomplise
i’m comin’ to stop sh-t
from a latin perspective
comin’ up west, it’s cause these latins homeboys
you gotta respect it
so i’m steppin’ to the next episode
since this is the rise 2 power, let the game be sold
never fold, comin’ up cold, cause of the knowledge i hold
props to the homies locked up doin’ time or on parole (ha ha)
yeah
and this a west coast thang
worldwide vatos soakin’ up this west coast game
tourist come to california, fear these west coast gangs
because these southern cali streets are known to west coast bang
{-gunshot-}
and it’s still mr. criminal
still comin’ original, still hi power’s general
aimin’ all off at your temple, you ain’t got no street credentials
get the f-ck up out of my face if you ain’t screamin’ west coast
blunt smoke comin’ all out in my nose
in cali, all off in them alleys, i roll
i’m born to roll, when i’m burnin’ vogue
clock a nine millimeter back, let it go
homie sunk, you would talk, like confederals
and is actin’ like b-tch h0m-s-xuals
levas hate, i’m a gangsta, daddy stackin’ paper
i believe, don’t get it, holmes
but still, i’m doin’ my thang
i still got blue in my veins
in a beamer, off in a nine
in a ranger, still, blue jeans in sag
hi power reckless, hoo bangin’, cash money, two
thousand eight
ese, m-a-dub, blast for me
{-gunshot-}
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