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Niggas die, niggas die with the quickness
Niggas know they won't die slowly from the sickness
So they bust on another nigga
Put him to rest with the gage, the gage that fucked up
The nigga's chest left his ass on the pavement
Marinating in his own blood
'Cause niggas get no love
And all the white men do ain't shit, only shit, hm
Now we wonder was it blood or grip?
He ain't shit, now that nigga's filling up a grave
And all his homeboys say is the nigga was brave
And what good is brave when your ass is like six-feet deep?
But I guess that's how it goes when the other team creep
So they're on the hunt, thinking payback
Stagging and they ragging
But they mostly wear black, damn
One piece of metal straight started a holocaust
And niggas still bang, no matter so fucked cost
Even niggas family members die low
You're not up on the other side, you get smoked
Now fuck that shit, niggas today ain't playing
If you're slipping, then nigga
I'm straight-spraying
So take a look at what's growing in my hood
187 from the gardens, up to no good
Growing all the time, stepping over five streets
It's Mr Goddard from the Jewish Nine, nigga
C4, I pull the trigger of a Glock
Take a look in my hood
What's in the gardens for the dot?
What's growing in the garden, nigga?
Guess what's growin' in the garden, nigga?
What's growing in the garden, nigga?
Guess what's growin' in the garden, nigga?
What's growing in the garden, nigga?
Guess what's growin' in the garden, nigga?
And that's my kicker, boom, let niggas have it with the chrome
And if it wasn't for my non-nigga, I'd be home alone
I'm homegrown, packin' like a sack of that Chronic O'Real
And if you smoke me, I'm walkin' to my funeral still
Wettin' the gardens with a murder for the mind
So test me, I'm just about quicker than a nana
How you feelin' for your test guts?
May your soul talk, God bless ya
Pickin' them out with an amulet, me to rest and shit
It ain't nothin' but a gas thing
In the gardens, long as you got your five flips
And some street slang
Hey, you're rollin' with the motherfuckin' brush stand
And on that nigga, that black criminal Mac-10 is bustin'
So now I'm cuttin' through the gardens with my Reaper
A 40-ounce, a 08, a fat sack of Reaper-owned turd ammo
You know it's all good
'Cause you're about to see
A motherfuckin' 187 in the hood
Slow nigga, you thought you had your non-cock
Shit in the deuce, folk garden block
You know, before I work, I'm murderin' the foe
I'm fillin' my lungs with the Chronic
And lettin' niggas know
What's growing in the garden, nigga?
Guess what's growin' in the garden, nigga?
What's growing in the garden, nigga?
Guess what's growin' in the garden, nigga?
What's growing in the garden, nigga?
Guess what's growin' in the garden, nigga?
What's growing in the garden, nigga?
Guess what's growin' in the garden, nigga?
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