[Intro: Dave Free and Jay Rock]
Ay, ay, Rock, don’t you got a MySpace page, nigga?
Yeah I thought so
Isn’t it like [email protected]?
Yuh
Yeah, I thought so, okay
Jay Rock, yuh, [?], Top Dawg [?]
Why I not in your top eight, nigga?
Jay Rock, [?]
Watt City, jiggy, go [?] like this, [?]
Yuj
[Verse 1: Jay Rock]
Cruisin’ down Central, high off indo
Smashin’ down Imperial, three-wheelin’ a vehicle
‘66 Chevy, carry somethin’ heavy
That’ll turn a bitch-ass nigga to a veggie
Watts is the city, raised on a rough street
Where them fiends high on crack like a wedgie
Killer, killer Cali where them Bloods and them Crips meet
North and south SAs bustin’ ‘til your shit leaks
Like Snoop said, “It ain’t nothin’ but a G thing” so I rock white tees, Jays with the red strings
Needed cash, so I turned in the fast lane
In the spot with the cocaine, that’s where some cash came
Still the same dawg runnin’ with the ruthless
Disrespect the section, check you’re toothless
Got Eazy-E bumpin’ through my speakers, be
‘Pac in my changer, slug in the chamber
Runnin’ through red lights, Rock can’t sit tight at a light, nah, dawg, that’s how you lose your life
Watt City G, not an amateur
If nobody ridin’ shotgun my gat is the passenger
[Bridge: Jay Rock]
Yuh, yuh, Jay Rock, real Watt City G
Yuh, yuh, I hang around Watt City Gs
[Verse 2: Jay Rock]
“Buck, buck, buck,” from my .357 magnum
That’s what it sounds like if I have to blast something
So I hope I don’t have to because the aftermath cleaning tissues and black suits
So think about it
Never drinkin’ and drivin’, man, I’m drivin’ and drinkin’
(“That’s a DUI, Rock!”) Man, I ain’t worried ‘bout it
‘Cause I’m ridin’ with no tags and plus I’m ridin’ dirty with a pack of good dope and four gats
Pump in the trunk, got a gat in the glovebox
One under the seat, keep one in my briefs
Yeah, my day one bitch got one in her weave
No hesitation, she’ll put a slug through your meat
Look, ridin’ through these ghetto streets, movin’ with the metal beat
When the guns go off it sounds like a melody
Call it ghetto music, out here in Los Angeles we used to it
Dawg, we hear it every day
Yeah, it sounds like a symphony
Killers don’t have no remedy, nigga, when they huntin’ down they enemy
Now the target, face on a white tee
Now you can find the shirt on sale at a swap meet
Man, I hang around motherfuckin’ Gs
In the end, Gs when they throwin’ up the “B”
On the other side of the track they throwin’ up the “C”
We all in the same gang: Watt City Gs (Gs, Gs)
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