Da Homie Droopy - Walk My Talk

Charlies on my chest and chuckys on my feet
Ten yard dash when i hear the tires screetch
Never stays quite in these oakcliff streets
Keep ya head up and ya hand on yo machine
Don't ever tell nobody about how you make yo green
Gotta thank the lord that i made it to eighteen
Chillin on da porch and its bout eight o clock
Night time shift so i go for a walk
All black with rims pulls up and just stalks
Call the homie fredo but i get no time to talk
Tires start screeching so i cut through an alley
Hop a few fences but he still blastin at me
Made it to the pad but i had to stop and breathe
Take one puff of relaxation from the weed
Stimulate my mind but im still not calm
Head inside cuz im safe in the canton

I walk the block
Cuz i can walk my talk
All these vatos starrin at me but i tell em kick rocks

Saturday morning gotta take care of some shit
Take a stroll to corner store then again i see it
The same damn car holmes I couldn't believe it
Quete by my belt its revenge im gonna need it
Found out the foo is working at the spot
So i head to the pad and rewrite the plot
Later that night someone blew out his thoughts
Cuz when you point the Gat
You better not lack
In the streets of oakcliff you get put in a sack
Better watch yo words when you say youll attack
Got some lolos in the street that'll really fire back
Now the hood is hot
But the droops is not
Keep away from the hooda or your gonna get caught
Especially from enemies or you'll get got
Dogs been barking up and down the street
Come to find out someone tasted the heat
Layin on the floor with an all white sheet
My homeboy said he gotta light the reef
Cuz a blunt a day
Keeps paranoia away
Few hours pass by we hear someone is huntin
Crack head walks by and asks why you not running
Green light on the droops and you know they gunnin
Got the three fifty seven i ain't worried bout nothing
Ten o clock on da dot i hear yelling and jumping
With a turn of the chevy
I see them rolling heavy
They screaming out loud this for the homie zelly
Popping off the hollows while they hitting the pad
Six rounds in my chamber not enough to get mad
Homie fredo gives a call and says where you at
Im the vato in the corner getting sprayed with gats
Hear the homies give a whistle
Cuz they packin the pistol
Brains all on the floor cuz of the shotgun missle

I walk the block
Cuz i can walk my talk
All these vatos starrin at me but i tell em kick rocks

Now its hasta la vista you wont make it out
Moseburg to yo head and it goes KABOW
Go to church in the morning and they asking how
Wash my sins away and im fully cleansed now
Im not gang related
But im homie affiliated
Dont ask about the cliqua if you gonna say you hate it
Cuz ima bust you in the face while I look you in the eyes
Then tell all the homies while we shooting them dice
And sippin on kawama while its droopy we bump
I kill the mic every time cuz i cant fake da funk
Shouts out to all the foos thats been down with the droops
Gotta always keep trucha and that gangster attitude
Keep one eye on all the levas
And the other on the feria
Playing with my money is suicide i tell ya

Written by:
Shawn Miranda

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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