[Verse 1]
Kinda like tha mafia if you ask me, who's that?
All of them ridas from ORC, why's that?
Cuz we bad like 3 strikers when we spit rhymes and preach to street bikers
Or convicts in ricers
There never ain't no telling what we gonna do
Cuz when you think we through
We come back hit you
Wit another hit, ain't no stopping me and my gang
Boneybone Corleone from the MTV cut fame
Same rapper and same rider, Westsider
Only difference is my beats and rhymes tighter, that's real
Now throw in tha sky if you down wit me
I represent that organized rhyme family
Family tree consist of demon killas
Reaching drug dealers and top billas making scrilla
Livin' in white villas, using guerilla tactics to reach crypts and bloods
And all tha thugs that are looking for love
[Hook]
We's them rhyme sayers, true 2 life plays
Dippin' in navigators not trippin' on all you haters
Making rider music strictly for tha Creator
Wit more game from tha bay than the Oakland Raiders
[Verse 2]
From tha land of Chuck Taylors, khaki wearers and gang bangers
Where rap sangers lowride and talk about 'em colored bandanas
Ducking from one time, California sunshine
Projects and streets infested wit thugs that are doing major crimes
Primetime couldn't paint a better picture
Best beware of them locs and O.G.'s from them thugs hit ya
Cuz where we from it's straight scandalous, Los Angeles
Ain't too many players or ridas that can handle us
Slugs flying in every direction you look
Got homeless people living under bridges and drug addicts hooked
Ain't this a shame, that's why me and my gang preachin', like deacons
To bloods, crips, Latinos, Blacks and Puerto Ricans
Every weekend we be speakin' and preachin', teachin'
How we need to be reachin' tha heathen, sleepin'
While tha devils creepin' meetin' to put these suckas names on contracts
And lift up and raise up tha King of kings like a car jack!
[Verse 3]
We making moves like a U-Haul
Playa haters don't get it twisted like RuPaul
We don G's and family, that stick together like Siamese twins
And Chinese steam rice from Chang Lee's
I'm tha, Bone Corleone wit Lucky Luciano, Kevin Blanco and Mr. Donnie Brasco
E-Doggie Montana from Nicaragua, my little patna that we be calling Jimmy Hoffa
Can't forget about Chase Gigant, cuz when I rhyme say he makes'em beats bomb bay
Hot like picante, this is tha click that I be talking about
So if you ain't down wit us then back up before you get clowned
Kinda like tha mafia if you ask me, who's that?
All of them ridas from ORC, why's that?
Cuz we bad like 3 strikers when we spit rhymes and preach to street bikers
Or convicts in ricers
There never ain't no telling what we gonna do
Cuz when you think we through
We come back hit you
Wit another hit, ain't no stopping me and my gang
Boneybone Corleone from the MTV cut fame
Same rapper and same rider, Westsider
Only difference is my beats and rhymes tighter, that's real
Now throw in tha sky if you down wit me
I represent that organized rhyme family
Family tree consist of demon killas
Reaching drug dealers and top billas making scrilla
Livin' in white villas, using guerilla tactics to reach crypts and bloods
And all tha thugs that are looking for love
[Hook]
We's them rhyme sayers, true 2 life plays
Dippin' in navigators not trippin' on all you haters
Making rider music strictly for tha Creator
Wit more game from tha bay than the Oakland Raiders
[Verse 2]
From tha land of Chuck Taylors, khaki wearers and gang bangers
Where rap sangers lowride and talk about 'em colored bandanas
Ducking from one time, California sunshine
Projects and streets infested wit thugs that are doing major crimes
Primetime couldn't paint a better picture
Best beware of them locs and O.G.'s from them thugs hit ya
Cuz where we from it's straight scandalous, Los Angeles
Ain't too many players or ridas that can handle us
Slugs flying in every direction you look
Got homeless people living under bridges and drug addicts hooked
Ain't this a shame, that's why me and my gang preachin', like deacons
To bloods, crips, Latinos, Blacks and Puerto Ricans
Every weekend we be speakin' and preachin', teachin'
How we need to be reachin' tha heathen, sleepin'
While tha devils creepin' meetin' to put these suckas names on contracts
And lift up and raise up tha King of kings like a car jack!
[Verse 3]
We making moves like a U-Haul
Playa haters don't get it twisted like RuPaul
We don G's and family, that stick together like Siamese twins
And Chinese steam rice from Chang Lee's
I'm tha, Bone Corleone wit Lucky Luciano, Kevin Blanco and Mr. Donnie Brasco
E-Doggie Montana from Nicaragua, my little patna that we be calling Jimmy Hoffa
Can't forget about Chase Gigant, cuz when I rhyme say he makes'em beats bomb bay
Hot like picante, this is tha click that I be talking about
So if you ain't down wit us then back up before you get clowned