Criminal Wayz Lyrics & Tabs by Clika One
Criminal Wayz
guitar chords lyrics
[Voice]
In your mothafuckin ass
Ooh this some mothafuckin gangsta shit
[Bad Boy]
Welcome to the Eastside wit 40's and glocks
Homies are riders non stop
Any open fire, jus drop block
You fuckin wit hot shots who keep a stash up in the box
They love to get off, they pull it out for the block
Whether it's gang bangin or not
Hop in the ride makin it hop
Takin your bitches top off makin her hot
Haters will flop for tryin to snitch us out to the cops
They on the phone [tryin to give up a drug spot]
Man you bitches never change, droppin dimes, spillin the game
Haters will flop for tryin to snitch us out to the cops
They on the phone [tryin to give up a drug spot]
Man you bitches never change, droppin dimes, spillin the game
Won't be satisified til all my homies are locked in a cage
But fucked that, we be cocked wit a guage
Buck shots with a rage
Keep the pieces on razor blades you bitch made
Bet you afraid to get your house on spray
You know it's retaliation within a couple of days
Them criminal ways
Catchin cases in violent days, it pays to pay
Pay your lawyers and havin nice days
[Chorus: Ese Brown]
It's our criminal ways, catchin cases from paper chases
It's our criminal ways, gats, brass knuckles and razor blades
I'm cool wit Ese's who got AKs and cases, cut off Dickes and fat laces
[2]
[Ese Brown]
This is for my gang bang dippin they cigirettes in the dank glass
Homies liftin and lettin they pants sag, gats in their hand bags
Bitches wit bandanas and gang tats, stuff in they pants
Help us some way if they man ask
Homie wit the continnental kids in the back, puffin them sacks
Poppin them caps, hoppin regals and cadaliacs
Haters get mad, we sent them straight to they backs
And tell em, mothafucka yeah whats up with that
Gangstas get mad because of the shit they never had
Homies got no dads, and no cash, homies get hot fast
Short fuse, belongs to the homies who know what they doin
When they blasted a bullet right through em
This shit aint new to em, chicanos bangin the streets
They handle the beef, wit heaters, homies, pandas and p's
And playin for keeps, and white sheets that cover the streets
The game, all my homies that be learnin them criminal ways
[Chorus]
