Strap On The Side Lyrics

Strap on the Side Lyrics

[Chorus]
Rolling with my motherfuckin’ strap on the side of me
Don’t fuck with the East Bay Gs (Got a strap on my side, got a strap on my side)
Rolling with my motherfuckin’ strap on the side of me (Got a strap on my side, got a strap on my side)
Don’t fuck with the East Bay G (Got a strap on my side, got a strap on my side)
Rolling with my motherfuckin’ strap on the side of me (Got a strap on my side, got a strap on my side)
Don’t fuck with the East Bay G (Got a strap on my side, got a strap on my side)
Rolling with my motherfuckin’ strap on the side of me (Peace to my motherfucking nine)
Don’t fuck with the East Bay G (Got a strap on my side, got a strap on my side)

[Verse 1]
Broke ’em down with the clip and a trigger
Screamin’ like Eiht, yelling, “Come on, niggas”
Nappy head motherfuckers in a Coupe de Ville
Lightin’ shit up like Fire Marshal Bill
You see I hops on the flow like my nigga Domino
And get a big fat sack of yay
A key or a half, a motherfuckin’ thing
Pistol whip a nigga with a AK
Peep this, la-di-da-di, I shot up his body
Left his ass bloody in the front of the party
Yeah, a y—a—young nigga rollin’ up out the cut
Do a drive-by with the feds on my nuts
Niggas be gettin’ gatted when they step to this G, see
I pulls my motherfuckin’ UZI
And spill his brains (Spill his brains), spill his brains (Spill his brains)
I spill his brains in his motherfuckin’ lap
I pulls a jack (Pulls a jack), pulls a jack (Pulls a jack)
And shoot the heart out his motherfuckin’ back
I come from 187, not with that hoe shit
So, nigga, spark up the bomb so we can blow shit
See upcoming rap shows
Get tickets for your favorite artists

You might also like
GOAT
J.R. Writer
I Still Wanna
Pusha T
Ignorance is Bliss
Kendrick Lamar

[Verse 2]
Comin’ up at they ass like tails of a cryptid
UZ thing swallow that ass like limp dick, nigga
And now they try to wonder and figure
How the fuck Charles Manson turned himself to a nigga
Put a blast on they ass with the holes of the barrel
Bullets fly in a chest like a motherfuckin’ sparrow
‘Cause we get like Stephen King, bodies swing from my ceiling
Opens up the cheeks when it’s time for the cap peelin’
9-4, hit the door with a fat gat
Comin’ like this, break ’em down like that
The nigga with the packs and the fat crack sack
Po-pos on my back, blow they ass off the map
With the 187, mad man killer
Spill a nigga guts for the fuck ’cause I be—

[Verse 3]
It goes one for the treble but you don’t wanna floss
Unless you wanna flex with my bitch Nina Ross
G—a—gat that ass with the double deuce Derringer
From the Bay Area, the pall burier
Six niggas carry ya, momma in hysteria
Walk up to your motherfuckin’ coffin and I stare at ya
‘Cause you’s a dead motherfucker, black
And you never should have fucked with the 187 Fac
So nick-nack paddywhack, give a G a gat
And put some bullets in that ass crack, yeah
Break ’em down with the MAC
And like John Madden ’93, boom, he’s on his back
Spice 1 is a motherfuckin’ trooper
So say what up to the East Bay Freddy Krueger
Blow the head off a motherfuckin’ cow
When my gat go off like a M-1000
Take the hood off your hooptie when I bust a cap
Rolling with my motherfuckin’ strap on the side
(Peace to my motherfucking nine)

[Chorus]
Rolling with my motherfuckin’ strap on the side of me (Peace to my motherfucking nine)
Don’t fuck with the East Bay G
Rolling with my motherfuckin’ strap on the side of me (Peace to my motherfucking nine)
Don’t fuck with the East Bay G
Rolling with my motherfuckin’ strap on the side of me (Peace to my motherfucking nine)
Don’t fuck with the East Bay G
Rolling with my motherfuckin’ strap on the side of me (Peace to my motherfucking nine)
Don’t fuck with the East Bay G
Rolling with my motherfuckin’ strap on the side of me (Peace to my motherfucking nine)
Don’t fuck with the East Bay G
Rolling with my motherfuckin’ strap on the side of me (Peace to my motherfucking nine)
Don’t fuck with the East Bay G