(Chorus, Do Thangs)
Crestside, It`s tha Triple C
Crestside, It`s poppin` in tha Crestside
Crestside, Livin` that pimp life
Tryin` to get a pimp ride
(Mac Mall)
Shit, I`ll take ya way back
Spittin` game longer than the gateway track
It must have been a blessin` raised as an adolescent
And mack 11 testin` in tha glass house
Straight twamped out cuz hang gotta Caddy on them thangs
Wit a phat-ass TV, so at age 9 I wanted that to be me
And now big A.C. can make in million on the Vegas strip
Since 1976 we been infuenced by pimps
And y`all suckas, is lucky that Smooth can`t walk
Cuz a lot of y`all fools would be outlined in chalk
And I`d like to say what`s up, to my nigga Ronny Wenn
He`s a G when it comes to strugglin` hustlin`
To the top, Rest in Peace to Pop and Chris Macabee
He put the Mac in me, Thats why I ride a brome today
Straight game, the crestside way, we goin` pop all day
Whether weed or Yay, I`m still stressin` cuz it seems like last night
we lost
Mike,
S double, and damn God needs to let the real nigga`s live,
But Nokey is gone and Freddy is dead
In the Crestside
(Chorus)
Now 95 is the day and soldiers shootin` for the game,
Big Buggy`s a straight killa servin` rocks on the way
The Double R hit them banks wit` glocks in the Pelican Bay
You disrespect the Country Club and fool prepare for the shank,
This ain`t no overnight shit
We been at this for years
Back when Finch rolled a Benz and Baby Frank was gettin` his
So if you ask me, why my fondest memories is bout` shootouts
And high speeds with the police
Spill Hennessey for D-Boy and house Dubee,
It`s us against them so I stay true to the triple C
6` in the morn choppin` quit low on the St`s set up shop
Throughout the V to move the next key
Rivals be snitchin` but cook em` all in a crock pot
Floss old schools on gold shoes and let the hoes jock
Crestside shit, Aliens wanna copy-cat
All in a city full of squares, playa`s, and dirty mack`s
Wanna-be gangsta`s, and small tymer`s tryin` to act hard
Well real-ass soldiers, a chosen few rollin` like hard
North of Vallejo, cuddies puttin` in the major work
Open your eyes and take a look at my crazy turf.
It`s called the...
(Chorus)
Back when that Piggy P was a crooked cop
Back when that K St. mob ruled the Kemper block
Back when we said fuck the world, because we loved Benz
Do you remeber Figgaro and tryin` to hustle for ends
Hopin` that I stick to my grind and stay real to the street
One day I`ll talk on Mobile phones and have a Chevy Caprice
Wit a couple of mounts and some slam in my trunk
And a spliff of that zesty cuz we don`t fuck wit` them blunts
But in this day and age cuddy, this done got ill
Youngsta`s that won`t a mill and ain`t afraid to kill
What the crooked game deals baby bloods gettin` spilled
Now it`s blunt packin` chumps that try to set up shop where we chill
So it`s all to the hood cuz when we mob I`m stayin` hip to the time,
Got my mind on my money keep one hand on my nine
On the same street corner where I was brought up and raised
The only chance I get for peace is when I`m drunk or I`m blazed
If this shit soundin` far-fetched and you think that I lied
Grab your nuts nigga , we goin` for a ride through the Crestside
(Do Thangs)
This game don`t stop from the Crestside
O.G.`s young pimps, playa`s thats right
(Chorus 3X)
(Do Thangs)
This game don`t stop from the Crestside
Tec nines, mack joints nigga thats right
This game don`t stop from the Crestside
O.G.`s young pimps, playa`s thats right
One Luv,
Dolomite
