Lyrics
Venice boardwalk, to watch the choppers of v
From South Bay to Pasadena, yo we back on the scene
From 110, 10 405 to 5 my 9 to 5
Makin' it live, some flash bulb when we arrive
Got the city on lock, block for block, as we stomp through
Pop crews shining like new cop shoes
Keepin' a beat, we made it
Top of Friday night brothas always stay faded
And been underrated for a long time now
So take your black album, eat a peg
You can read it front page, people under the minimum wage
You freestyles are rockin’em still
High-profile like roof tiles on Echo Park Hill
Next step, payin' bills, stay dippin' like Dolomite
On an LA night, chillin' out in the heights (right)
So who can make it tight (we)
First initial the (P)
U-T-S Thes One and Double K just be
Rippin' up a track, on attack like a tyrant
Pullin' out the rhyme books, stack’em up, yo admire it
Fire it up, do the Cissy Strut down Stearns
Earning money for your liquor, sacks, blunts, and golden burg
It’s a way of life and since you’re living fat, be advised
P is back, stealin' old records and your fries
Black, guard your headphones
We’re internationally owned
For salmon like bones on show microphones
But before that’s said we gotta make sure that everyone out there is ready
Ayo we back like the rear
Your fear standing in front of you and your squad
Breaking’em down the numbers inside
On the follow-up tip, making sure that it’s fresh
Fat bump in the tub, and yo whatever you slang
You know their names from the first one, if not, go and get it
Two letters makin' it better for the fools that with it
And all the brothas with the funny haircuts, Get on the floor
Females, give out your address, we givin' you more
Like Rudy Ray, don’t need no DJ, sucka I handle that
Rhymes come in bundle packs to make you wanna humble the style
The new America’s most
With the Triple K, your days are up, claimin' your coast
I represent with a passion
And punk I ain’t askin, I’m tellin'
Then after that I’m bailin'
Call me Mr. Meaner
Cleaner than your pop’s bowling ball collection
Up in your section like z’s, straight off the tip philly G
That the homie rolled up, and that you get when I spit
I suggest high steppin', choose a weapon and flip
You can run, you can run, but you niggas can’t hide
I’m peepin' you at all times
You’re album’s like a show, dimes
So we put these together, made it potent in fact
Backed it up, as a five presented, made the streets live bird
And what you get, get into sound that we hittin'
(And yo your lady don’t think) because it’s armored like Brink’s
And locked down like your uncle T-Bone, ya know
So get ready, get ready, so we can start the show
Yeah we’re tired of your fake underground sound
Ya fired, non-vinyl buying, punk crying over Casios,
Get it re-wired so you can sample original breaks
You know that real funky shit, not them repressed fakes
Ayo the efil4zaggin will continue to be saggin'
And baggin' on these sally Thes cut MC’s
Until they learn the lesson we kept, molded and brought back
Keep the album, we out Black
Ayo you thought we comin' soft, man you lost your mind
Yo you thought we comin' soft, man you lost your mind
You thought the P was comin' soft, lost your mind
You thought the P was comin' soft (nigga you lost your mind)
