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Clika One
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Stress (feat. Frost)
Stressful day and stressful nights
It's big bad ass Clika gang
Just to put it down, for the year 2 G's
Hopin' to God, to let me
Live, for my kids (That's right)
I've seen enough, since Do Or Die
I realized to change directions
Through my buddha high
Through my depressions
I'm asking questions, through the lessons
Hoping to get it on, and hit the bong, we rest
It's ghetto buddha blessin'
See, fuck with coke, went to the pen
But then again, I see the reasons
That we had, to get it in
But now, we look for, better friends
A better life, I'm livin' in
Scene causes drama, but my mom
She says it makes us better men
We use mistakes to take us
Cause life's a blast, keep it on safety
Cause it's better safe, wastin' ya life
Just hopin' for the rain
There is no way in life
But then it came, I heard someone say
'Even though things was hard
I was givin' a blessin' from God
Destined to be a star'
When blessed, homie protected
I'm loco when I'm stressin'
Smokin' on some weed (Weed)
Sippin' on the bottle (Bottle)
I'm happy just to breathe (You think they don't know)
Smokin' on some weed (Weed)
Sippin' on the bottle (Bottle)
I'm happy just to breathe (True, sho')
Smokin' on some weed (Weed)
Sippin' on the bottle (Bottle)
I'm happy just to breathe (They don't care about what's going on)
Smokin' on some weed (Weed)
Sippin' on the bottle (Bottle)
I'm happy just to breathe (To breathe)
For ten years now, I been in the game
Still suckers out there, tryin' to shame my name
Cock back the revolver
Up in this bitch for financial gain, shit
Tell me that money don't grow on trees
It does when you break it down to pounds of ki's
And a man conecta, overseas
Me and the Clika doin' dirt
Bitch made hoes off showing skirts
Left for dead with their feelings hurt
Motherfuckers out there, look to top the game
A shit, when it lit, but it ain't no thang
Together, locotes, they love to bang
Little nuts can't compare, to the ones, that hang
So little G's learn, what the O.G.'s teach you
Whatever you do, don't let the cold G's reach you
Stay strapped with the gat in ya lap
In the 'Llac, cause they motherfuckers out to beat you
The money, the power, the pussy for us
The reason I'm a (?) cuete can't rust
Is I don't know when I'm a, have to bust
I stay strapped with my, bulletproof vest
Thinkin' that they tryin' to put me to rest
Hit me hard, between the chest
But I got a, little kid to look after
Then my child'll be a bastard
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We willin' in dealin' and chillin' like villians
And thuggin' and luggin' and constantly clubbin'
We mobbin' and robbin' and slangin' the chronic
My shit is the bombest, when it make you vomit
So take you a strong hit
Roll it or toke it, I'll loan you a bong hit
I'll hold it the longest
Til I'm black and I'm blue, and I look like a zombie
My lyrics'll teach you, we crazy ass people
To anyone rappin', we tossin' it up
Load a .40 in the stress, the boys doing gecko
They learnin' they lesson, they takin' the pressure
The reason I'm rappin', to bring you the message
My wrong and my rights, can't live with regrets
Two blunts when the tears fall, buried
Homies are pouring out beer
So light a fat leno and howl at the moon
We getting fucked up til the day of the doom
From the womb to the tomb, from Burke to Cali
From Vegas to Dallas, the north and south alley
If my dad was alive, then I know he'd be proud of me
Hauling the rats, with this lyrical slaughter me
Those who forgotten me, never be part of me
Step out the nuts and just back the fuck off
The big baddest Clika and Mr. Bigg Frost
I'll walk til I rot and I'll die for the cause
I lived as a bastard, I'll blast if I have to
A thug with a passion, with manic depression
Lord, could you please, just send me a blessin'
I'm down on my knees and I'm sort of like stressin'
Attacking the bitch with a mack in a back
In a mob lab, I'm out to mackin' 'em up
With a gun, bub, motherfucker, trust me
Respect the name, before we test your name
And gangbang on your motherfuckin' homies
A homie once told me, 'Never trust a ho
Cause that bitch is a motherfuckin' phony'
Got to put it down for the homies, in the low-low's
With the .44's, drinking 40's
And all the shaved heads know me, O.G.'s
To the young ones with the guns
Buckin', smokin' somethin', fussin'
Everyday hustlin', to them busters
Lyrical gang bangs we floss on 'em
Hit 'em in the body with a bomb on 'em
Mad dawg ain't fin to run up on the bomb
And let the twelve gauge do the talkin'
You walkin' a thin line, do or die, ridin' high
Throwin' up a sign when you ridin' by
These motherfuckers must be ready to die
With that chrome .45 to the side
And this life is a God damn shame
But the game, it still remains the same
And some of your daddies, they gangbanged in the 80's
Comin' through the same thangs
To movin' them thangs, regardless of pain
Been out for the fame, monetary gain
Through the car and rain
We maintain, and quick to take aim
To blow out your fuckin' brains
Anybody's insane, when needed
Facin' our enemies weeded
The nine millimenter, you need me, sent you to sin
Days that we livin' in, so I'm smoked out
Don't need no more stress in my life (Stress in my life...)
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