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wish you were here (street mix) - bloods & crips lyrics

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verse 1: og broncoe:

10*5 candyland, gingerbread man
it’s like every other weekend, d*mn here i go again
same ol’ suit, same ol’ stuff
g’d up with my locs and we all hub’d up
dirt, rod, grub, gause, gramps
1159 got smoked on the traccs
slaccs, staccs, and money to be spent
i know his body left, g, but where his soul went
my heart still hurts, and all i do is wonder
stay strapped with my gat so they can’t take me under
internal sufferin’, striccen by grief
left to remain in this plain so i forever have peace
eastside fudgin’ by the dozen, the town
mafia crip, watts up and i’m out

verse 2: green eyez:

here i come with that gangsta sh*t once again
green eyez is down with the 4 backed up by the 10
when i bells through the west i gets much love
as a ygyb ’cause i’m that down*ass blood
from the bloods of inglewood that’s my f*ckin’ hood
with red chucks we gives a f*ck ’cause it’s to the good
now should i dump on these n*ggas for my homies bickin’ in peace
over this punk*ass sh*t, man f*ck this sh*t
and f*ck the whole world, n*gga, that’s what i’m hollerin’
and f*ck yo’ trick b*tch and freak d*ck and what she swallowin’, n*gga
i figure i’m the mothaf*ckin’ g
drinkin’ gin without the socks i might knock out a hoe
for what, ’cause i’m wanted rollin’ on them gold corners with these seventeen switches
f*ck all these b*tches on my n*ts*ck
my gat’s fast so tell me the f*ck you want
my ends on my cloud i knock yo’ b*tch*ass out
on my hood inglewood family gang is what i’m claimin’ ’til i dizz*ie
i’mma rizz*ie green eyez og g*ngb*ngin’
verse 3: big bun (rider j):

face to face, hand in hand
you were my brother, you was the man
but now the time, has gone by
you seek a goal and i seek mine
i dream all dreams, some dreams come true
but there’s no dream more real as you
even though you not here i feel the need to provide
rhythm and bass, monty long, just for you i ride
the future is comin’, the present is here
soon we’ll see as one no fear
i can feel you in the daytime and feel you at night
i’m stayin’ strong with all my might
tears, more tears that i cried
but i’m stayin’ strong even though you died
monty long, dave, rob, hulk, big mil, benson, devil, warren, warrant, kim and donna, more tears, ’cause i wish you were here

verse 4: bigg cixx pac (king saten 400):

roll, run around fast, get that kicc up out yo’ ass
duccin’ and dodgin’ won’t help a n*gga when i blast
the mothafuccin’ antichrist just broke loose
a n*gga from watts kiccin’ dust like a mongoose
tiny half dead, fcip
original east side rip ride like an apache
bigg cixx on a crucifix, sippin’ dip juice
mobbin’ through them squares c*raggin’ off that loop
f*dg* town, front street, watts franklin crip gang
do or die, crip or cry, keepin’ it an f thang
yeah n*gga this go out to my homeboy tiny half dead, f up my n*gga
verse 5: spyder:

give it up for the west side rider
yg gangsta spyder pumpin’ d*mn slugs inside ya
you wanna run and hide, but i gotta come back
and i’m f*ckin’ these hood rats, got 4 packs that jimmy had
splishin’ and splat, all up in yo’ face
i won’t give a sh*t, 104st. where it takes place
and i’m goin’, to the mothaf*ckin’ mo*mo
f*ck this hoe so i can bust four mo’ nuts
for the inglewood cmgb
i don’t give a sh*t, young sp
what they call me that’s some problems if you ask though
westside inglewood 104 (104)
show, no mothaf*ckin’ shame in this g*ngb*ng
inglewood, crenshaw mafias as such a denver lane
i aim my gat, then i start buzzin’
n*ggas hit the dozen, then i’m steadily rushin’ they b*tches
f*ckin’ ’em in a shack, i don’t give a sh*t about a hood rat
westside mafias made

verse 6: b.g. scarface & g*bone:

scarface with that a*n*t*l*a*n*t*i*c d*r*i*v*e bg atlantic drizzi*ve rizz*ie, southside
g*ngb*ngin’, sellin’ cocaine, nothin’ changed
i’m still to pop the right to pop the flag where my poccets remain
on the suffer set that’s my mind on turmoil
thinkin’ about my homies rest in peace, makes my blood boil
so, everytime when i drink first off pour some out to (?)
make sure my homies rip, they still thought about
put your homie love from the compton city clicc
the homies, from the hood is too much is what we trip
but trippin’, ain’t goin’ to get you back the homies kicc it
’cause life, is too short you got yo’ life to live it
’cause i, i did my dirt put in work for dave
and that’s put the fools who caught the blues couldn’t bring my homies back
so i, figure that i need to go on with my life
’cause my homies rip and that i’m still alive
so i’m, visitin’ in my life to my head up to big blue to my homies rest in peace
put yo’ love from the clicc
verse 7: lil’ hawk:

up and up and away, in the sky it’s the crenshaw mafia
with the sp but my name is lil’ hawkster
i be servin’ ’em, swervin’ ’em, on the 104
when i come in the do’, with my flow, for the west coast (woo woo!)
what that b like, g like, n*gga, i gives a f*ck
n*ggas be talkin’ sh*t when i sport my red chucks
but for talkin’ that sh*t you will get yo’ mouth split
you can’t f*ck with me and that’s speak ’cause, n*gga, we be’s the sh*t, biaetch!

verse 8: big freeze:

just another day in the hood, n*ggas still k!llin’
bullets rainin’ all through the crowd while my homies chillin’
hit the ground quicc, come up and now i’m gettin’ off that my n*gga live
freeze to the left bust him with the mac
it’s a different day but the same old sh*t
30 shots fired about, 12 people hit
leaves a n*gga heart layin’ in sadness
but i gotta deal with eastside watts madness
i bail in the depths of h*ll with the yl’s, n*gga
come pop yo’ sh*t best believe i pull the trigger
it gets no bigger today is yo’ death day
stop runnin’ and hidin’, ’cause a busta i hi*zzay
you fizz*ay and, n*gga, i’m pullin’ your hoe card
you gotta die, mothafucca, you ain’t hard
franklin square crip

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