Up On the Wall

[Produced by DJ Battlecat] [Verse 1: The Game] 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 Wiener 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 Nellaz 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? [Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign] 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 [Verse 2: The Game] Murder was the case that they gave Game Cops on the cutlass 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 [Interlude: The Game] 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 [Verse 3: YG & The Game] 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, Lil Wack Q-Ball, Lil' Wolf, TK, big back YZ four, 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 [Verse 4: The Game] 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 Wiener Schnitzel Hanging out with the pistols, making sure shit official Big Who's and Day 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 fiends 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'? [Interlude 2: The Game] 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 [Verse 5: Problem] 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 [Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign] 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