Behind Gates

Say Earl, let's get it crack-a-latin in this bitch..

Uhh.. nigga nigga.. y'know (y'know) y'know!

Uhh, Ice Cube and E-40 up in this motherfucker

For those that don't know,

we do it like this (like how?) We do it like this (like this)

I gotta say some shit 'fore we start the single

I'm sick of motherfuckers bitin 40 lingo

Everytime I see yo' bitch ass you got a jingle

and you ain't wrote shit, got it from my people

Your whole ego, is evil, negro, fo'rizzo, we go

get the Desert Eagle, blast on your Regal

Your dub, no "California Love," California slugs

from California bloods, and Calfironia cuz

Dip ridin them little itty bitty ass wheels

in the town like you might see on shoppin carts

If I ain't ridin mustard or mayonnaise-zinas (?)

and bowed toes, (?) low on horse

then I'm bluffin, I'm less than nothin, a constipated dude

Constantly fartin, but I'm really supposed to be, shittin on fools

Peep - Ice Cube and E-40 doin a track together

That's HEAT! Players it don't get no better than this pimpin

That's HEAT! Two of the most grizzliest and Godzilla-ass niggaz

to ever touch the mic.. (touch the mic)

Behind gates, heaven or hell, mansion or jail

Keepin it real, two niggaz from the hood makin mill's

Behind gates, heaven or hell, mansion or jail

Was destined to have somethin pimpin, be about your mail

NOW! I might talk a different language but I'm not Scottish

Got more homies in jail, than I do in college

I'm a cold piece of (?) - slide through the park

and come back every fifteen minutes in a different car

on the strength of flamboastin pu-uh-purposes

Smokin burners (burners)

Finger on my thumper (thumper) in this concrete habitat

Never know when you just might have to, put a head on flat

Our status, is penthouses, yo' ass, is rent houses

We got, ten houses, can't even, spend ours

We go, invent ours, in about, ten hours

Comin with that mob-ass shit, it's a hit bitch

Broke bitch, turn into a rich bitch

Every trick bitch wanna be a legit bitch

We got big ol', big gold gates

We got big ol', big gold, nickel plates (who is it?)

Let me tell you, broke niggaz can't offend me

Evidently, yo' Bentley musta said "rent me"

I see you rollin, lookin stolen, L.A.P.D.

is actin just like me, they can't believe what they see

Pull you over, it's over, nigga, can't be sober

Rollin through this neighborhood fool nice to know ya

Fakin like you got the bacon, with that tickin-ass Rolex

A nigga blast til the soul reflects

My roots grew up tearin projects, players shootin craps pimpin

Placin side bets, hair full of naps pimpin

Bunch of ruffnecks, play the old tracks mayne

Money cars sex, servin cocaine

White girl, wedding dress, in the dope game

Block cleaners, poppin out of my Ford Excursion truck

with heaters, poppin at all of my enemies better duck

Even though I'm makin tapes I'm still stuck

[Chorus - 2X]