Lyrics:

Damn cuz, the spots gettin' hot
So how the fuck am I supposed to make a knot?
The feds lookin' at a nigga through a microscope
On the West Coast everybody and they mama sell dope
They try to stop us, so what the fuck can I do to make a profit?
Catch a flight to St. Louis
I got work for that ass, plus everybody knew us
We stepped off the plane
West Coast bangers, professional crack slangers
Bought us a car at wholesale
Drove to the Northside, checked in a motel
AK's nigga, fuck a .380
The way we stayin', niggas look shady
And St. Louis is a baby South Central
Cause bustin' a cap is fundamental
I'm peepin' out every block close
Seein' which one will clock the most
Yeah it's the one, no doubt
Bust a U cuz, and let's clear these niggas out

Yo, yo
What's up?
South Central, yo, this is South shit
Now clearin' 'em out meant casualties
Now St. Louis got the L.A. mentality
Bust a cap, and outta there in a hurry
When you know, they gangbangin' in Missouri
A lotta fools got popped
Now they bang our set, one-nine, on 20 blocks
And it's better than slangin' in the Valley
I tripled my profits, makin' more than I did in Cali
Breakin' off rocks like Barney Rubble
We smokin' niggas, they don't want no trouble
And we ain't on edge when we do work
The feds must recognize the khakis and the t-shirts
Gettin' bitches, and they can't stand us
2008, Tony Montana
Money turns into war
A gang violence, well it was never seen before
Punks swore when the gat bust
A West Coast nigga kickin' up dust
And all the youngsters in the Lou lookin' up to us
Wearin' our colors, and reppin' our gang, what?
Givin' up much love
Dyin' for a street, that they ain't never heard of
You know I'm from the Beach and I'm stayin' strong
So you know the fray, once again it's on
And now for more news
Gang members from South Central Los Angeles
Which are known for drive-by shootings
Have emerged and hit St. Louis
Leaving three dead, two others injured
No arrests have been made
Police say this is a nationwide trend
With similar incidents that occurred in Texas
Michigan, Oklahoma City, Phoenix Arizona
Little Rock Arkansas, and now New York
My homie got shot in the head and his back
St. Louis niggas want they corner back
Shootin' this stormy rock
It's illegal business and niggas still can't stick together
Motherfuckin' feds got the 4-1-1
About the ki's and the weed and these hella guns
But see we ain't thinkin' 'bout the boys
Feudin', like the Hatfields and McCoys
Now the shit's gettin' tricky
And now they lookin' for the colors and they get me
Now the spots gettin' hot from the battle
I'm 'bout to pack up and start slangin' in Seattle
But the feds, raid about six in the mornin'
Tryin' to catch a nigga when he's yawnin'
Put the Glock to my chest as I pause
With the gel in my motherfuckin' drawers
Tryin' to give me, fifty-seven years
My face'll be full of those tattoo tears
It's the same ol' story and the same ol' niggas stuck
And the public defender ain't givin' a fuck
Fool must be retarded
Talkin' about, a double life plea bargain
You got to deal with the Crips and the Bloods
If you a real G, nigga holla if you feel me
I'm a Eastsider hangin' on the Northside
And it's a riot if anyone of us die
On parole or probation
Now this is a young G summer vacation
No chance for rehabilitation
Cause look at the motherfuckin' years that I'm facin'
I'ma end it like this so you know what's up
My life is fucked, yeah
When I get out, I'ma get right back in the money
I'ma get right back to sellin' dope
Doin' what I do all around the motherfuckin' neighborhood
You can't stop me motherfucker
You know I'm the kingpin of this shit
The Connect, you know we gon' stay ballin' nigga
And it just don't stop here
I'll be right back in the money like I said
Only got one hundred and fifty-seven years left