Sangtekst: Jim Jones. Other. Certified Gangsta's Remix.

(feat. Xkwisyt & Bezel)

[Verse: Jim Jones]
You know I keep my eyes wide
East side high risers
West side low riders
vest with the four-fire
Yes I fo sho fire
D-I-P low rider
See police, slow the ride
See scwalay , nigga
'Cause they be thinking that the ride stolen
Keep your head up and your eyes open
Load the lead up while the ride rollin
Creep up on a motha like what you say fucka
Well fuck him and if he live smoke him
We don't appeal to the law
You know we ride this motherfucker till them wheels fall off
And the first bastard get fly
You know blad, blad, blad, was my reply
89 wolf pack and we wylin
P-89 pull gats 'cause we violent, shit, yea
We put coke on the strip
Don't quote me boy 'cause I ain't said shit

[Chorus: Bezel]
Since I made a gang of bucks
Nah I ain't been hanging much
Still slide through fly coupes, and the chains is plush
Keep the banger tucked 'case I had to bang a fuck
'Cause we Certified Gangstas
All day we hanging smut, dog with a gang of ducks
Hundred grand on the hand, Game got the range of trucks
Kill wit the deal, still got cane to cut
'Cause we Certified Gangstas

[Verse: Xkwisyt]
X! Make me throw money, JR Write it off, and have it cheque-d,
So when X step out, make like false check marks, and act correct.
I spend time with gangsta?s, hustlers, yet never a day on birds,
Well I do set up ally-oop remixes on dictionaries; call it a play on words.
I?m a crack snitches and bitches, you know! Just smack a little,
Cause I?m ecstatic, with more colored bitches than a pack of skittles.
And you know I got plenty of --?s just like me, kinda like 50 clones,
The new DipSet, cause I ball like Jimmy Jones, ballin!
Cause I cock back and spray, it hurts,
Call it a ?Diary of a Summer?, while I was ?On My Way To Church?.
Could give less a fuck if you like me bitch,
Even though I still ?Swoosh? by you more than Nike kicks.
So we big money, so we terrify bankers,
I even got a certificate, telling me I?m a certified gangster, yeah!

[Chorus]

[Verse: Jim Jones]
You know I ride through Lennox
All eyes on my pendant
But I'm moving like oh dog was ridding a menace
With that automatic weapon, blowing live through my tennant
While I'm breezin' through the jects, blowing live on the tennants
I'm pouring liquor for the dead and gone
And we retaly same night, load the blinkers with the leaders on
We come to get you till the dead and morn
(Knock, Knock wake up mothafucker, you know who it is)
Killa and Jones coppin one dawn
Big birds, the rocks and our charms
He got the bird, the glocks in my palm
I got the word from King Joffrey the bomb
My nigga zeekey surely a hard rock
How he survived them 40-sum-odd shots
As we ride he screamed out eastside
All the time as I reply

[Chorus]