YG, Ty Dolla $ign, The Game, Problem - Up On The Wall lyrics

Old pussy ass mark, bitch ass buster
Think you from LA cause you
Listen to some Mustard
This is Battlecat
My nigga Kurupt had the battle raps
We go back like four flats on the Cadillac
Nigga you ain't never been to a hood day
You don't know Ice Cube
Today was a good day
You ain't never been dropped
Off in the jungles
Teared Khakis
Red bandana wrapped around your knuckles
Me and my brother used to dip down in 'Shaw
Stopped at the Weiner Schnitzel
Got socked in the jaw
By some sixties, I bombed back
The nigga pulled out
A strap, said it's 6-0
I ducked then he missed me
Now I'm back to Bompton
Before I hit the hood
A nigga gotta stop in the Swans
And pick up a sack, had fifty for an eighth
And I only had fifty, made it last all day
Smoking with the homies
My nigga G Weed from Dallas
My nigga Hooter from Athens
Park stay brackin'
Fo' line, deuce line, Bray still active
And the Cedars ain't giving no passes
Why we asking?

How you gon bang if you really ain't from LA
We spray your gang up on the wall
Tell me
And how you gon' fade if you
Really don't know the dance
I see you really don't bang at all
Mark-ass

Murder was the case that they gave Game
Cops on the colors cause they
Know a nigga gang bang
Red bandana round the rear-view
"Where you say you from
Blood?" Niggas can't hear you
Flag on the left side claiming you a Blood
Blue rag on the right side calling niggas cuz
Bout to get your mark ass
Chalked out on the West
This for all my niggas in the
Pen beating on they chest like

I said I need some pussy
On my motherfucking wall
And I ain't got my commissary yet
I said the next motherfucker try
To steal a cigarette
He gon' get a fucking pencil to the neck

That's on the set
Ooh, I'm a Tree Top rep, all the
Homies know is shoot choppers
Handguns and Tecs
Not unless my niggas really get it popping
Tree Top niggas like the Hoovers in Bompton
Big Budda, Syke o, Slim 4
Q-Ball, Lil' Wolf, TK, big back
YZ three, two strap
Quisha and Miss Lisa, house, where we at
It's the gang bang capital, 2 T's capitals
Enemies know the business
This shit is factual
Bompton's most hated, fuck it
Shoot out and fade it
So my mama stay awake cause
Her son be gang banging
You don't know about the put ons and DPs
Hanging out on the block
Coming through to squeeze
Some outta town niggas disrespecting
I see why Suge Knight and Big U was arrested
(Can't forget about the Mexicans)
And I fuck with the villains
And the swans on God

On God
I got niggas from Denver Lane that'll ride
I got esés that'll kill you at your job
I got some lueders by the Weiner Schnitzel
Hanging out with the pistols
Making sure shit official
Big and (they) both got stripes
Both locked up for life
So if I ever hit the pen
I got a squad
Hell yeah I'm on that gangsta shit
Nigga run up, knockout
He gon' think he's slick
Hub in the dub, nigga don't even trip
I get you chased by the grapes
Nigga 300 crips
My nigga Magic from Avalon
Draws from neighbourhood
Get your ass dope fiend
Slipping in Hollywood
Hop from 6-0, Girch from Santana
Roc from Nutty Blocc, we tied our bandanas
And for my little nigga Frogg
I gotta stay active
Blood in, Blood out, what's brackin'?

R.I.P OG TC
Shoutout to my big homie Bone from Athens
Ridin' down Bentral 'bout to bust a right
On Piru street and scoop
This nigga Problem up
Blood

What, green light and yeah it's go time
Product out the fo'
They can get it off in no time
Oh my, did it on my own, no cosign
45, devil in disguise, free dope trial
West side, ride 'em off (3rd) avenue
Go at us, have your shirt wet as Lake Havasu
Pop pop diggity drop drop, hopped in a hotbox
Smashed off, stashed the Glock
Drop it off at the chop shop
Boy, dollars only thing make sense
Fo' to the duece, rest in peace 4 Bent
What

How you gon bang if you really ain't from LA
We spray your gang up on the wall
Tell me
And how you gon' fade if you
Really don't know the dance
I see you really don't bang at all
Mark-ass