Gang Bang Anyway - The Game, Jay Rock, ScHoolboy Q

Um, yeah palms sweating guess it’s time for the murder

My nigga my nerve, I swerve left you dead on the curb

Tell his family get them black clothes

Any witness gets a 9 cold, could do this with a blindfold

I’m that player on the corner looking dry when it rains

Pimp a dollar out a pussy, I ain’t trying to change

Far from average, I’m smoking this cabbage

Bottled teeth, joint karats, say cheese, make the cops freeze

Big cribs, four bars, living pipe dreams

You only gangsta through your bop screen

Might set the reason for the crime scene

Fill up the city with madness

We the reason the hearses left your hood and holding up traffic

Let the riddles do the scrapping, keep the gun in my fabric

Better pistol than them badges, you get dealt with the maggots

Heard drive-bys everyday

Seen homies die early age, though we still gang bang anyway

Uh, yeah, Figg side

Though we still gang bang anyway, uh

Though we still gang bang anyway, uh

Though we still gang bang anyway, uh

Though we still gang bang anyway

B’s and them H’s, tats on faces, Glocks with extendos

Chucking up the hood then throw like 80 out that window

The chopper make you limbo

Gotta keep them antennas up, moving down Central

Young niggas with skinnies, moving with them semis

Catch your ass leaving the club, murk you at Denny’s

Squeeze till it’s empty, it seems so unreal

'Til the gunfire got you using tables as a shield

East side, west side, niggas getting chastised

Dropping like fruit flies, we all know who die

We all go on Insta and get the whole rundown

A 15 second clip until he put the gun down

Know OG’s who took more shots like diabetics

Had that MAC paint on your face like cosmetics

Chucking up big ass B’s is my fetish

Type of shit that make you go brazy if I let it

Niggas got zippers, wheelchairs and prosthetics

Though we still gang bang anyway, uh

Though we still gang bang anyway, uh

Though we still gang bang anyway, uh

Though we still gang bang anyway

Hundred days, hundred nights, nigga

Let the K scream 'til we see the red and blue lights, nigga

From the Hoovers to the Hundreds, nigga

From Kelly Park to Bounty Hunters, nigga

(Watch out for the shooters)

Same age as the kids in Iraq now

LA Chiraq now, funerals is packed now

Preachers at the pulpit, Jesus is the background

Grandmother get shot walking out the church

How that sound?

Niggas don’t really like it but we grew up in it

City of angels, belly of the beast get chewed up in it

Started as Black Panthers, everything power, everything pro black

Started off unified the FBI know that

A little coke sprinkled on tables but wasn’t no crack

False imprisonment, Huey P, Geronimo Pratt

Now close your eyes, listen to me, your mind’ll go back

Picture us chained together under the boat, that’s a Kodak

And since today is Thursday, let me hit you with a throwback

Stolen identities, God left us here without lowjack

Forced to find ourselves, forced to break up outta chains

Got tired of getting hanged so we started our own gangs

Tookie Williams (Crip), Sylvester Scott (Blood)

Seventy two Lil' Country caught a slug

And that was the first time a crip ever killed a blood

Now the shit is worldwide cause it is what it was

We know the history and we know the shit could end any day

Though we still gang bang anyway, uh

Though we still gang bang anyway, uh

Crips, primarily African American gang

Though we still gang bang anyway, uh

Founded in Los Angeles, California 1969

By Raymond Washington and Stanley Williams

Though we still gang bang anyway

Today there’s over a million Crip members worldwide

Associated with the blue bandana

Bloods, also primarily African American

Street gang founded in Los Angeles county city known as Compton

By Sylvester Scott and Benson Owens

A mission he formed to provide members protection from the Crips

Today there’s over 5 million Bloods worldwide

The government still can’t contain us

And our fate was sealed forever

When 17 year old LA brim Frederick «Lil Country"Garrett

Was murdered by west side Crips on June fifth 1972

Hey man ain’t that Lil Country over there cuz?

If it is, his ass gon' be laying in a blood river

Hey man, make a u-turn and pull up on him real slow

Alright cuz

What’s happening Fred?

Frederick, oh my god, oh my god Frederick no, no

Please, oh my God

Somebody help me

Y’all just gonna fucking stand there?

Call the police

Somebody help me, please

Ok stay with me