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Artist: The Game f/ Jay Rock, ScHoolboy Q
Album:  The Documentary 2.5
Song:   Gang Bang Anyway
Typed by: 

[ScHoolboy Q]
Mmm, uhh, yo
Palms sweatin, guess it's time for the murder
My nigga my nerve, I swerve, left him dead on the curb
Tell his family get them black clothes
Any witness gets a .9 cold, could do this with a blindfold
Ohh, I'm that player on the corner lookin dry when it rains
Pimp a dollar out a pussy, I ain't tryin to change
Far from average, I'm smokin this cabbage, bottled teeth
Joint karats, say cheese, make the cops freeze
Big cribs, four bars, livin pipe dreams
You only gangsta through your bop screen
Might set the reason for the crime scene, fill up the city with madness
We the reason the hearses left your hood and holdin up traffic
Let the riddles do the scrappin, keep the gun in my fabric
Better pistol than them badges, you get dealt with the maggots
Heard drive-bys every day
Seen homies die early age, though we still gang bang anyway
Uh, yeah, Fig' Side

[Chorus: ScHoolboy Q]
Though we still gang bang anyway, uh
Though we still gang bang anyway, uh
Though we still gang bang anyway, uh
Though we still gang bang anyway

[Jay Rock]
B's and them H's, tats on faces, Glocks with extendos
Chuckin up the hood then throw like 80 out that window
The chopper make you limbo
Gotta keep them antennas up, movin down Central
Young niggaz with skinnies, movin with them semi's
Catch yo' ass leavin the club, murk you at Denny's
Squeeze 'til it's empty, it seems so unreal
'til the gunfire got you usin tables as a shield
Eastside, Westside, niggaz gettin chastised
Droppin like fruit flies, we all know who die
Y'all go on Insta', and get the whole rundown
A 15-second clip until he put the gun down
Know O.G.'s who took mo' shots like diabetics
Had that MAC paint on your face like cosmetics
Chuckin up big ass B's is my fetish
Type of shit that make you go brazy if I let it
Niggaz got zippers, wheelchairs and prosthetics


[The Game]
Hundred days, hundred nights nigga
Let the K's scream 'til we see the red and blue lights nigga
From the Hoovers to the Hundreds nigga
From Kelly Park to Bounty Hunters nigga (watch out for the shooters!!)
Same age as the kids in Iraq now
L.A.'s Chiraq now, funerals is packed now
Preacher at the pulpit, Jesus is the background
Grandmother get shot walkin out the church, how that sound?
Niggaz don't really like it but we grew up in it
City of Angels, belly of the beast, get chewed up in it
Started as Black Panthers, everything power, everything pro-black
Started off unified, the FBI know that
A little coke sprinkled on tables but wasn't no crack
False imprisonment, Huey P, Geronimo Pratt
Now close your eyes, listen to me, your mind'll go back
Picture us chained together under the boat, that's a Kodak
And since today is Thursday, let me hit you with a throwback
Stolen identities, God left us here without LoJack
Forced to find ourselves, forced to break up outta chains
Got tired of gettin hanged so we started our own gangs
Tookie Williams (Crip!) Sylvester Scott (Blood!)
'72, Lil' Country caught a slug
And that was the first time a Crip ever killed a Blood
Now the shit is worldwide, cause it is what it was
We know the history, and we know the shit could end any, day


Crips, primarily African-American gang
Founded in Los Angeles, California 1969
by Raymond Washington and Stanley Williams
Today there's over a million Crip members worldwide
associated with the blue bandanna
Bloods, also primarily African-American street gang
founded in Los Angeles county city known as Compton
by Sylvester Scott and Benson Owens
A mission he formed to provide members protection from the Crips
Today, there's over 5 million Bloods worldwide
The government still can't contain us
And our fate was sealed forever
when 17-year old L.A. brim Frederick "Lil' Country" Garrett
was murdered, by Westside Crips, on June 5th, 1972