Beware of My Crew Songtext
von L.B.C. Crew

Somebody, somewhere, best beware of my crew(2x)
Comin from the city where no pity is show
And everybody want to be a G when they grown
They send real niggas to the pen and score
Speakin on the ones that′s the quickest to dump
Same fools ridin that'z been down for yearz
Cuz that′s the shit when they around they peers
Three cheers to the turf for whatever its worth
Cuz I'mma represent till I'm set in the dirt
My mentality, battle the opponent to dip
And checkin every nigga that ever wanted to step
Wit a question fo testin
This action I represent fo inspection
When some jump then I′m dumpin
Pumpin fear in ya ear
When ya hear that I′m bumpin
(Voice box & Nate Dogg)
Somebody, somewhere, best beware of my crew
It's groovy how I sooth thee
And that′s just the way I display


Any time a day a duel
Dynamically wit the lyrical tool
Fuel on the fire warms the desire
To get this rap game stretched down to the wire, sire
My pimp-hog status will blast ya seat
From t to the e-c-h-n-i-e-c (Techniec)
Free from all this nonsense, guilt, and shame
They the one's to blame
But what I did been through, seen, and touched
The hoes talk to much
And outta my mouth comes nothing but game
And outta yo mouth please keep my name
Cuz verbally u herd of the t-e-c
But why chase after he u cannot see
Somebody, somewhere, best beware of my crew
Recognize game when it′s all in yo face off safety
Close range with a mask on when I'm not dead shoot
Out the window of a coup
Dump wit the vest I swoop
To the spot, to law low from the do-low
Put my gun away, cuz they got done away
By a rather pull a trigga type nigga
See the stages off mic
And shootin gauges off bikes
It′s like, livin and dyin
While laughin and cryin
In the same breath, U gain less
And I'm stressing for real
That U strong enough, to go long enough
It ain't nothing but a thang
Nigga can u hang? I bang
Hit U up, and on the mic I ain′t nothing nice
I leave U wit yo mental disturbed
Sellin cabbage, smoking chronic on the curb
Hoppin at my boys about them dallaz
And impalas wit the switches
Still lovin none of ya hoes
Trustin none of ya bitches
Cuz the key is to see through the trickz in they set
Somebody, somewhere, best beware of my crew(2x)
Now I gotta make my ends
Cuz my man′s in the pen fo' ten
Told me to handle his biz
Told me to handle his kids
And stay away from his tricks
But the simp chose to take another route
Ain′t what the game is about
Traded in his Benz for a Chevy Suberb
Hit the throttle and I'll be ready to swerve
Herb, smoke out a nigga hizzy
Spare tire ya whole chizzy
From city to city we mash
All he ever seen was the 95′ tag pass
Cinema, the lil' cinnamon, pretty one
Known to get em up wit anyone
From sunup to sundown
Servin pound fo′ pound
Smoking till the yay run down
Ahh, it ain't to many crews that can do this shit
Rue bitches ass, promotin gangsta shit
Cuz see that's what people know all bout the compilation
And since the shit droped
Everybody got conversation (odelay!)
Some people love us, some people won′t
But do I give a fuck? No I don′t!
And when them Dogg Pound killaz step next to me
I try my very best to bury his ass
So U can throw a lick
Cuz the click I got wit spit (Dogg Pound!)
Gangsta shit and we commit (commit what?)
A revelation of performin confusion
And fuckin niggas up in this game of music
Somebody, somewhere, best beware of my crew
Somebody, somewhere, best beware of my crew
Best beware of my crew
Somebody, somewhere, best beware of my crew
Best beware of my crew
Somebody, somewhere, best beware of my crew