[Verse 3: Woodie]
Let's take it back to ninety-three, flag hangin' to the back of my knee
A three fifty seven tucked in my nuts for those attackin' me
Patrolin' the block, the set, the turf whatever you wanna call it
Seventeen years old so bold ain't no one shot callin'
Fool we got our own gang, and do our own thang
Money second, b*tches third, first thing build a known name
Earn our stripes, put in work, objective leave them rivals hurt
Get your hands on any strap you can if broken make it work
Avoid the cops at all costs, never come in contact
Hit a fence and shake you faced wit murder result to combat
As long as that strap is loaded homie you got a chance
Never give up, throw your shit up let 'em know you
ready for the last dance
One-eight-seven we hit them, seven-eight-one they hit us
Back and forth we all die, f*ck it! In my northerners i trust
To ride's a must, whenever i bust can't let 'em match ballistics
Weapon gone, new strap on my person "they got me twisted"