Refuse To Lose Paroles

(Verse1)
(Lynch)
If I was standing in the dark letting my nine spark
(D-Dub)
Maybe in the morning, motherfuckers might feel me yet
(Lynch)
It's that nine tech nigga that got them motherfuckers tore
up
As I smash of in a seven deuce cut, you holding your gut
Talking about
(D-Dub and Lynch)
What the fuck you smoking on?
(Lynch)
All dome as the chronics got me gone
Nigga it's on
On 'til the slugs come out
(D-Dub)
At night I do my murder red rum so tight
(Lynch)
I'ts the third strike nigga Yeah, I got it sewn
So bone to the crib, or get your wig split fool, with the
tech chrome
And say the alphabet backwards fast or find you a brand new
dome
A criminal minded nigga that gots tefs in his nine
So head to the East side, 'cause it's red rum time, nigga

Chorus 4x

(Verse2)
Nigga, it's that-Sac of Indo-Killafornia State of mind
Where niggas put their gangster gear on, and bend corners
In a Chev 69
Wire rims
You can't see
With their neighborhood flags and their black Carthart
beenie
I'm like Genie
As I swoop through the hood and get up to no good
And I wish you would
Test my tech, 'cause nigga, it loves to take out necks
And empty backs out, so I max out
350 on the black top
More smoke than chronic smoking
Loced out sherm, classic perm
In my ashtray, there's always a roach
Hit the left lane in case one times approach
I got, 5 warrants and some '89 tags
17 in the clip of my, auto mag
I'ts sad
I gotta watch my back, 'cause these niggas wanna throw me up
in a black
leather sack, and throw me over their back
But fuck that
Why you think I got extended clips
'Cause I'm so high, most of the time
I just can't miss, nigga

Chorus 4x