|
Brownside - Creepin' lyrics
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] |
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Last added lyrics |
|---|
 Fornika by Die Fantastischen Vier |
 El Mariel by Pitbull |
 Insomniac by Enrique Iglesias |
 Tomorrow and Yesterday by Samson |
 Lovers' Requiem by I Am Ghost |
