Black 64

Black six-four, gold Daytons roam

And hit the block non stop nigga straight out bone

And just passing through, didn’t have no strap

Point my finger at your asses says smoke like that

Hit your enemy block, rolling four cars deep

Two Chevs, one 'Lac and a IROC-Z

Riding low shotgun gauge ready to peel

Windows down, top drop, bumpin' Realer Than Real

Hit the block, gauge cocked, hangin' over the do'

Seven shot, one squeeze, ride pump, ya know?

Never slip in the streets of the Garden Block

'Cause muthafuckas get smoked a lot

Hit the flow and I come, you try to run you get gunned down

Four deep on the creep, I’m about to put your ass to sleep

And ain’t no sense in locking up the door

'Cause one kick from one the cliques we'll be in that hoe

So make way as I unload my A-K on your house

Then degrade as I take one of your closest family members out

It’s the Bo, I thought you knew, oh punk you didn’t know?

Well meet my forty-four (four, four, four, four)

Face to face we shoot out with the next hood

On the creep, they say the Bo-loc’s no good

And it’s your ass that got me pulling a mask, popping a cap

Want me to tap daddy on that ass with my mask?

It’s all for one and one for all

Fucking with the Bo and I'll be bustin' and getting AWOL

Pulling a gat, going in for the big Jack

Caught them fools on they back

Woke them up with the mac, now give me the scrap

'Cause that’s how we living in ninety-three

I watch my back plus I’ll be strapped 'cause ain’t no jacking see

So don’t try, this punk tried denyin' I knew was lying

I started firing, now one at a time they all retirin'

Close range, living in strange, can’t be tame

I pull the mac and take the police out the fucking game

I been a slave, and I ain’t going back

Police jacked with the intentions to sendin' it back