Lyrics:

He just might go all the way
Goin' goin', long gone
First, second, third, Home
Oakland, Athletic fit ballin
Four quarters, nine innings I'm as good as your last winner
I'm grinnin, caught up in it doors open
Ghost ridin' dope smokin' when you come to oakland
Hold it down for the bay, yup it's a rap
Run up in the spot, can runnnin with tremendo slap
Move to the Town, don't do nothin' like warren sapp
Major blaps, discoverin on the map
We some pimps, grab a strap just like the cops
Young gun, eets ts ts sts sts ts ts ts blow
Open up shot, poppin' my collar
Cut throat people change for the mighty dollar
If you fakin now you never been real, coward
Goin' 60, runnin' red lights and

That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go

I said lean wit it, rock, walk and pop lock
Get low, go, nigga, go dumb don't stop
Goin' mayne don't let it
Knock it out like boxin and no sweatin
King of the... nah I ain't gotta tell ya
Proof is in the put in, stop buyin dreams, we could sell ya
Matter of fact, dude built to last
Hit fast like cash before your ass even touch the grass
Haul, gas, 18 dumbalafa
Hyphy mixed with crunk call it criphy juice in our trunk
Ridin' like there ain't no tomorrow, blappin motor hot
Got 'em stuntin, shakin they dreads at the bus stop
Talk to me rat, holla, man get at me
Clean pimpin', let me suck and twist 'em grape in the fatty
Lean wit it, rock like the Franchise Boyz
No choir time, not listenin or makin' noise
Young gun full of huh playin' with the toys
Sukisa saki su, sum crazy boy

That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go

That shit wet, then tell me no warnin
Battery fully charged, all night from this mornin
One in the house and anotherfor the car
Repped Tiger Woods beat 30 points and the par
Put an egg your shoe baby, get far
Dime piece brizzle, oh for shizzle, cater to a star
They still call me, Chef-Boy-R with a platinum jar
Doin' all-nighters, grinnin, grindin on a chicc
Do it back wudz he went this nah that nigga went that way
Ba Ba Ba Ba Bay, man we do this eryday
Let that go, go somewhere wit all that
Take this shit from the tip-top to the way back
Raised in the Oakland City, I was born to mack
Pimp talk from my mouth, words on the track
I shoulda handled, bring my money back
Still shootin with cannon how you wanna act


That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go