Creepin'

Kicking it, strap on my side and I'm so high
 Thinking bout them putos that tried to do the drive-by
 Creeping in the alley, ese this ain't the valley
 Cholos are deep in a fucking brown Caddie
 Drop to the floor, a fucking four door
 (There's some putos we jump)
 Ese they're coming for more petho
 Watch real close as I level
 His head to the seat, my quette he hands me
 Six feet deep is where this culo stays
 Although in a coma for a couple of days, anyways
 That's what I see on 21 Street, where we meet in the big SC
 South Central is loco represento
 The crazy ass Eastside is in your fucking mental
 Lento, but harder than a motherfucker
 Catch me on a bad day knockin out a clucker
 [Chorus x2]
 Creepin through my neighborhood
 Quette on my side, always up to no good
 On the Eastside, where the balas fly
 Only true gangsters ese, I don't lie
 Now all you cholos know we gotta handle our streets
 Always keeping trucha cuz the black and whites creep
 All gotta pay dues, think it's time to take a cruise
 Bensando in my hand, fuck them fools
 They throw a rat on the fucking murder rap
 Now it's time for us to go on back
 Simon, we're the ones you putos can not stand
 I'm coming to get you with a quette in my hand
 Damn there he goes, stop, I go, I caught his ass quick
 Nada me duro puro, blu blu to his stomach I stuck
 Two balas at first then one on top for luck
 Fuck I gotta go, this puto needs no more
 To make our escape we just drove away slow
 We gotta handle ours, leaving scars
 Q-Vo to the homies behind bars
 [Chorus x2]
 As I light and hit the sherm stick
 I sit back and think of doing crazy shit
 So we roll, and it's late at night
 Got my little homey Sharp, and Wicked by my side
 Rolling in the G-ride heading out the East Side
 Ahora en la noche some bendejo dies
 Simon, it's all a gang trip
 If you're in it and you know it say "you better not slip"
 Crazy cholos don't give a fuck
 Simon, fuck the juras my dick they can suck
 Straight gang-banging till the day I die
 Senor Wes I'm innocent, I don't lie
 Big pantalones, creased out, t-shirts
 Hitting it with the homies always putting in work
 Sur, X-Tres is where the fuck I roam
 Los Angeles (East Side) is where I call my home
 [Chorus x2]
 Enemigas try and fade, when we show up they run away
 I guess they seen us coming with our guns ready to spray
 You look like a bitch when you run from us
 I know you know we got guns that bust
 Plus you know I'll peel your fucking cap
 Didn't catch you yesterday but I'ma get you off the map
 So strap, cuz they only way you're lasting if you're fucking blasting
 Never recognize me cuz I'm always masking on a mission
 All the santos missing, then they shoot this fool and then start dissing
 Display my motherfucking gangster's way
 Spit on his ass, tu pinche madre
 Just like that, making putos disappear
 Y que, at least I'm still here
 No fear, those majotes and my Mexican Pride
 Jump in the lowride and cruisin through my East Side
 [Chorus x2]