Mr. Criminal, Stomper, Big lokote - Sounds of the Barrio lyrics

Broadcasting love from the crime lab
It’s Mr criminal, Lokote & Stomper, what?
Reminiscing, about growing up in
The varrio homie

I remember growing up
It was a real hard task
Got in a fight, you beat em down
If not, then that was your ass and I’m not
Just reminiscing just all off of the past
These days these vatos don’t scrap
These days these vatos they blast
A product of the varrio
With my back against the wall
Pocket full of 8 balls
On the run from juvenile hall
I remember like a splinter in
The back of my mind
Getting my hustle on daily
Running from the one timе
Grab the pintura homie, let’s start to mobb
Varrio Silvеrlake Trece
All the enemigas get crossed
Smoking chronic in a circle
With the Wynos all deep
Baby Huey, Shy Boy, Niño, Oso, Creepy and me
Straight riding Sur siding, pistols all ready
Found another vato hit's the calles
Now you hear the fucking siren
In the year ‘98, I was fighting a case
The same year my perro Shy Boy
Took the bala in the face

Sounds of the varrio
Shhh listen, can you hear it?
Walking through the cemetery
Talking to the spirit's in the varrio
Where the homies roll deep
Banging 24 hours a day, 7 days a week
In the varrio where the homies pack straps
Vatos collapse for crossing the wrong
Side of the tracks in the varrio
Listen up, in the varrio

Taking it back
I was a youngster on the street
A little vato serving heat
In the New Town street keeping up much dust
A young gun with a mission
Cooking up big dope
Chopping up keys in the kitchen
More bounce to the ounce
As I bounce with a ounce
Watching my pockets get fat
Still I’m fucking around
A criminal minded muthafucka
So sick & corrupt
Reminiscing of homies as they get locked up
And as the years went by
Yeah I got caught up
But now I’m fresh up out the county
I ain’t giving a fuck
Fuck the world was my attitude, I had no hope
Long nights on the calles
Out there slanging my dope
And every time I think of my homies
Who passed away i pay respects to my homies
& I visit their grave
Packing a strap, watching my back
Cause there was no peace
I lived a life of a G
From the South East streets, and like that
The haters come out to check my nuts
And end up covered with white
Sheets & covered with guts
From the slug I deliver
Make em shake & shiver
A blood spiller from the Nuevo Gang
A real rat killer

Sounds of the varrio
Shhh listen, can you hear it?
Walking through the cemetery
Talking to the spirit's in the varrio
Where the homies roll deep
Banging 24 hours a day, 7 days a week
In the varrio where the homies pack straps
Vatos collapse for crossing the wrong
Side of the tracks in the varrio
Listen up, in the varrio

In a primer’d muthafucking wagon
(that’s right) going solo causing havoc
Gave a fuck, ready to fucking ride right
With the crazy veteranos and
Murder on my mind knucklehead on the loose
Shotgun (sup puto) ready to shoot
Always hungry to earn some fucking stripes
Flick me off puto, bullets fly
Treinta dos still gang banging
Pinche felon causing havoc
East Side Cuatro Flats is lo que representó
44 hollows son las balas que te meto
Fuck norteños from Arizona (south side)
Big Lokote - Hi Power stomping on ya (leva)
Lowrider show, fuck a snort hoe
Ask anybody in case you don’t know
2 against 1, you bitches couldn’t hang
Stomp your fucking brains
Aquí para Southland every day that goes by I
Get more fucking violent
Catch you fucking slipping
Leave you in eternal silence

Sounds of the varrio
Shhh listen, can you hear it?
Walking through the cemetery
Talking to the spirit's in the varrio
Where the homies roll deep
Banging 24 hours a day, 7 days a week
In the varrio where the homies pack straps
Vatos collapse for crossing the wrong
Side of the tracks in the varrio
Listen up, in the varrio