My Flag / Da Homies Songtext
von The Game feat. Ty Dolla $ign, Jay 305, AD, Mitch E-Slick, Joe Moses, RJ & Scheme
My Flag / Da Homies Songtext
(Mustard on the beat, ho)
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging, who you beefing with?
I know, your baby never hurt nobody
But he got his ass smoked at that Mustard party
OG blood, everybody know me
When I came in with the little homies (skeme)
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
That nigga Duke just moved an ounce of yayo
And you know I keep gunners on the payroll
I even fucked with Mitchy Slick down in Daygo
Young General, these niggas gotta spray for
You fuck around and catch 20 out this Range Rove′
Mayne, that beef shit is what a nigga made for
I open fire on her open mouth, case closed
Came in this bitch with Chuck Taylor's screaming "Fuck haters!"
Bad bitch, I′ma fuck later, tryna touch paper
In a six-trey rag going brazy up the Ave
What I'm drinking got me thinking, nigga
Maybe I should iron out my flag (ooh shit, ooh)
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging, who you beefing with?
(It's alright, alright, fuck this rap shit)
It′s anybody killa, that′s for anybody, nigga
Mainline, waistside, Westside nigga
Fuck peace, this for Crenshaw kings
Sockin' out niggas tall as Yao Ming
Lowkey is on drop, give a fuck ′bout whatcho mama
When it's on, it′s on, pop it like a bottle of Patrón
Then lay back with a bitch, man this is westside Jay 3-0 fifth
No gimmicks, God damn
I won't stop being a blood to gangland
To my dope then kicked in locked up in a strange land
So when they be like, "Slick, why we ain′t see you on TV or nothin'?"
Shit, I'm still tryin′ get off the gang injunction
′Cause when it come to this been, I'm a monster to your leaf
You can do a whole damu documentary on just me
Call it "The Life of a Hundred Percent Real Whooper"
They did it for the grams, moves and the hush
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging, who you beefing with?
(Uh, tell these niggas Chuck) (Jm, uh)
I put the woop in the woop like my DLB′s
All I know is VNG's and FTB′s
I ran fades back to back, that's on STB
And if you claimin′ you a blood, shit, you better know me
Big homie gave me a gun and said, "It better be empty"
I was 11 years old with a motherfuckin' .50
I got love for certain niggas, I've been doing this since knee high
And you ain′t a real blood if you didn′t bang at the beehive
Westside A-Hat, back in a straight jacket
Mister LA back, free my A track
Middle of July, I'm just tryin′ bring a Maybach
Whole city riding, I ain't even did a Dre track
Nigga this Athens, Miller gang mad
So east coast niggas be like, "Cuh, you crackin′"
Niggas ain't goin′ hard, as you should stop rappin'
I'ma be the street rider ′til the casket
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging, who you beefing with?
RJ, what′s that shit we was doing the other day
Blood to that uh, to that Mustard beat when the
When the homie was beating on his chest and shit?
Oh, you talkin' bout that uh, that uh
The homies in the cut, that′s on E
NIggas turnt up and we 'bout to hit the street
Ay, the blood, ay, take blood drink
Give me that motherfuckin′ weed blood
Ay Duke, do that shit blood
The homies in the cut, that's on E
Niggas turnt up and we ′bout to hit the street
The homie on probation, make him sit up in the back
'Bout to hit the weed spot and get another sack
I said, the homies in the cut, that's on E
Down for whatever ′cause the homies roll deep
Finger on the trigger, bandana ′round the MAC
Ride through the hood with a cup full of 'gnac
Ay, nigga, lemme hit the weed
Where the fuck you get this bud from homie?
Ay, we ′bout to run outta gas my nigga
Oh, fuck this motherfucker (Mustard on the beat, ho)
The homies in the cut, that's on E
Niggas turnt up and we ′bout to hit the street
The homie on probation, make him sit up in the back
'Bout to hit the weed spot and get another sack
I said, the homies in the cut, that′s on E
Down for whatever 'cause the homies roll deep
Finger on the trigger, bandana 'round the MAC
Ride through the hood with a cup full of ′gnac
I′m a real Compton Crip, I hope you niggas get the message
Leave them 16's open, I′ll make them look bad on records
Chuck told me "I'm Good", now I′m headed down to the Cedars
After that, straight to the hood where them tanas holding them heaters
Look, sagging down the A-Line, war fuck it no play time
Hit my first tour, I was still chuckin' up gang signs
Homies still cooking them cops hop out with K9
Lot of rappers callin′ out names, nigga don't say mine
The homies in the cut, that's on E
Some niggas bang the C, some niggas bangin′ the P
I′m really in the streets, you other niggas is weak
On my mama and the hood, fuck around and ya rest in peace
Especially when the homies in the cutlass on E
Niggas turnt up and we 'bout to hit the street
The homie on probation, make him sit up in the back
Say nigga, that little nigga′s right there cuz
Where nigga?
Right across the street loc
Man I told these niggas the last time
They keep pullin' up over here, there′s gonna be problems cuz
Ay cuz, turn that fuckin' music down nigga
Tired of these niggas comin′ over here and shit nigga
Turn the lights on, man turn the lights on!
Man pull up nigga, I said pull up cuh!
Hold on, hold on, they look like One Time
Oh, fuck cuh
(This is the Compton Police)
Man I knew I shouldn't have rolled witchu niggas
I'm about to get life cuz
Life? Cuz they ′bout to put me on the row nigga
A′ight!
(Shut it off, asshole!)
It's off cuh
Hey, look at blood an′ them get jacked by the ones
Hahaha, nigga don't drop that soap nigga
Bitch ass niggas in ya own hood nigga
Nigga hit the switch nigga
Get back to 05′ on these niggas blood
Woo
I ain't goin′
Fuck that nigga cuz, I swear to God, I ain't goin'
The fuck you mean you ain′t going?
I ain′t going back to the Pen' cuz, I can′t
Nigga, what the fuck we gon' do then?
I don′t know about you niggas but I'm going out
Fuck it then cuh, on Compton Crip! Kick the door open!
Fuck the police!
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging, who you beefing with?
I know, your baby never hurt nobody
But he got his ass smoked at that Mustard party
OG blood, everybody know me
When I came in with the little homies (skeme)
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
That nigga Duke just moved an ounce of yayo
And you know I keep gunners on the payroll
I even fucked with Mitchy Slick down in Daygo
Young General, these niggas gotta spray for
You fuck around and catch 20 out this Range Rove′
Mayne, that beef shit is what a nigga made for
I open fire on her open mouth, case closed
Came in this bitch with Chuck Taylor's screaming "Fuck haters!"
Bad bitch, I′ma fuck later, tryna touch paper
In a six-trey rag going brazy up the Ave
What I'm drinking got me thinking, nigga
Maybe I should iron out my flag (ooh shit, ooh)
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging, who you beefing with?
(It's alright, alright, fuck this rap shit)
It′s anybody killa, that′s for anybody, nigga
Mainline, waistside, Westside nigga
Fuck peace, this for Crenshaw kings
Sockin' out niggas tall as Yao Ming
Lowkey is on drop, give a fuck ′bout whatcho mama
When it's on, it′s on, pop it like a bottle of Patrón
Then lay back with a bitch, man this is westside Jay 3-0 fifth
No gimmicks, God damn
I won't stop being a blood to gangland
To my dope then kicked in locked up in a strange land
So when they be like, "Slick, why we ain′t see you on TV or nothin'?"
Shit, I'm still tryin′ get off the gang injunction
′Cause when it come to this been, I'm a monster to your leaf
You can do a whole damu documentary on just me
Call it "The Life of a Hundred Percent Real Whooper"
They did it for the grams, moves and the hush
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging, who you beefing with?
(Uh, tell these niggas Chuck) (Jm, uh)
I put the woop in the woop like my DLB′s
All I know is VNG's and FTB′s
I ran fades back to back, that's on STB
And if you claimin′ you a blood, shit, you better know me
Big homie gave me a gun and said, "It better be empty"
I was 11 years old with a motherfuckin' .50
I got love for certain niggas, I've been doing this since knee high
And you ain′t a real blood if you didn′t bang at the beehive
Westside A-Hat, back in a straight jacket
Mister LA back, free my A track
Middle of July, I'm just tryin′ bring a Maybach
Whole city riding, I ain't even did a Dre track
Nigga this Athens, Miller gang mad
So east coast niggas be like, "Cuh, you crackin′"
Niggas ain't goin′ hard, as you should stop rappin'
I'ma be the street rider ′til the casket
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging, who you beefing with?
RJ, what′s that shit we was doing the other day
Blood to that uh, to that Mustard beat when the
When the homie was beating on his chest and shit?
Oh, you talkin' bout that uh, that uh
The homies in the cut, that′s on E
NIggas turnt up and we 'bout to hit the street
Ay, the blood, ay, take blood drink
Give me that motherfuckin′ weed blood
Ay Duke, do that shit blood
The homies in the cut, that's on E
Niggas turnt up and we ′bout to hit the street
The homie on probation, make him sit up in the back
'Bout to hit the weed spot and get another sack
I said, the homies in the cut, that's on E
Down for whatever ′cause the homies roll deep
Finger on the trigger, bandana ′round the MAC
Ride through the hood with a cup full of 'gnac
Ay, nigga, lemme hit the weed
Where the fuck you get this bud from homie?
Ay, we ′bout to run outta gas my nigga
Oh, fuck this motherfucker (Mustard on the beat, ho)
The homies in the cut, that's on E
Niggas turnt up and we ′bout to hit the street
The homie on probation, make him sit up in the back
'Bout to hit the weed spot and get another sack
I said, the homies in the cut, that′s on E
Down for whatever 'cause the homies roll deep
Finger on the trigger, bandana 'round the MAC
Ride through the hood with a cup full of ′gnac
I′m a real Compton Crip, I hope you niggas get the message
Leave them 16's open, I′ll make them look bad on records
Chuck told me "I'm Good", now I′m headed down to the Cedars
After that, straight to the hood where them tanas holding them heaters
Look, sagging down the A-Line, war fuck it no play time
Hit my first tour, I was still chuckin' up gang signs
Homies still cooking them cops hop out with K9
Lot of rappers callin′ out names, nigga don't say mine
The homies in the cut, that's on E
Some niggas bang the C, some niggas bangin′ the P
I′m really in the streets, you other niggas is weak
On my mama and the hood, fuck around and ya rest in peace
Especially when the homies in the cutlass on E
Niggas turnt up and we 'bout to hit the street
The homie on probation, make him sit up in the back
Say nigga, that little nigga′s right there cuz
Where nigga?
Right across the street loc
Man I told these niggas the last time
They keep pullin' up over here, there′s gonna be problems cuz
Ay cuz, turn that fuckin' music down nigga
Tired of these niggas comin′ over here and shit nigga
Turn the lights on, man turn the lights on!
Man pull up nigga, I said pull up cuh!
Hold on, hold on, they look like One Time
Oh, fuck cuh
(This is the Compton Police)
Man I knew I shouldn't have rolled witchu niggas
I'm about to get life cuz
Life? Cuz they ′bout to put me on the row nigga
A′ight!
(Shut it off, asshole!)
It's off cuh
Hey, look at blood an′ them get jacked by the ones
Hahaha, nigga don't drop that soap nigga
Bitch ass niggas in ya own hood nigga
Nigga hit the switch nigga
Get back to 05′ on these niggas blood
Woo
I ain't goin′
Fuck that nigga cuz, I swear to God, I ain't goin'
The fuck you mean you ain′t going?
I ain′t going back to the Pen' cuz, I can′t
Nigga, what the fuck we gon' do then?
I don′t know about you niggas but I'm going out
Fuck it then cuh, on Compton Crip! Kick the door open!
Fuck the police!
Writer(s): The Game Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
