Crenshaw & Slauson (True Story)

Look

Relate to you, I can't

If you's a fake ****

We're level four in the state

What your mistakes get you

Rap ****, they just wanna double date with you

Twitpic and show these hoes

That they affiliate with you

Labels used to treating rappers like a slave, ****

Starving artists, just be happy wit yo' fame ****

Shit changed, now it's such a different game

All the **** like myself is controlling everything

If you

Pay attention see exactly what I mean

Fuck the middle man

I said that in 2003

Was 18, white Lincoln, chrome feet

Black forty was my pillow

Every night I go to sleep

Grown **** treat me like they OG

Holdin' on to every word that the tiny loc speaks

I had a vision that nobody else could see

Sold my shit to D-Mac

A little less than ten Gs

Brought my grocery bag of cash back to black Sam

He matched a ****

Next day we went to Sam Ash

We bought a Pro Tools and a microphone

Studio was far from plush

But them lights was on

Couple hundred thousand stashed at my momma's home

Real estate in Atlanta

But ain't nobody know

Mac 11's in the safe

Hidden in the floor

My bro did it like nobody that I've ever known

Screens on every wall

With sixteen camera angles

Double pane bullet proof

Glass pushin' past the haters

Cuban links and Rolexes

Fold a check from Epic

This industry ain't gotta like us

But they gon' respect it

Built the label up from money we was savin' up

No details till the statute of limitations up

Couple **** got flipped tryna play with us

The demonstrations speak loud, so I ain't saying much

Was a charismatic ****

I don't play as much

'Cause life is real when you live it

In a place like us

School pictures crackin' smiles

Now my face is stuck

Shell shocked to see how much they really hated us

Couldn't keep a kind heart

Get yo' hatred up

Street smarts ****, get your information up

Watching belly, smokin' blunts

Take Jamaican puffs

One day I'm gonna have a house and car like Jamaican cuz

Credits roll, back to stress pound breakin' up

Had to fight before we hustled

And it made us tough

Early 90's, neighbor's rooster used to wake us up

Mama had a bucket

And a shack but we ain't make a fuss

Blue Cutlass, no license

.380 tucked

'96 Caprice, Bolt Da Fatts was savin' up

They gettin' packed out if **** try and fade with us

Crenshaw and Slauson

True story, Zo, play the drums

All money in, no money out

Look in my eyes

See the light

Look in my eyes

See the light

Of a thousand dark nights

I got to this paper

No industry favors

Speakin' to they soul

So they tell me I'm they favorite

Been through it myself, yeah

I know how it make you

But never let 'em judge you

'Cause they ain't you

I could tell a long story

Or just say I'm grateful

I can tell a gang of reasons

Or just say I'm faithful

I can sell a million records

Or just mixtape it

They don't really give a fuck

Long as I just keep pacin'

Quiet for a year

Gave no explanation

Now I'm 'bout to drop

I got 'em on the proud to pay shit

Half a million cash

He gon' offer me a label

Told him that I need to own it

So I'm cool, kept it gangster

Holla back

Real **** what you callin' that

You see the game fucked up

Look, what part is that

Uh, they compare where I'm at to where I started at

They put me in the Getty

I'm a artifact

They can't never hang me on the wall though

Presidents ****, we push buttons

Rest of y'all just react

Victory lap ****, this marathon

Still don't stop though

Count me up

Count me up

I'm in this shit

You **** is out as fuck

I'm used to people doubting I'll amount to much

I thrive off the challenge

I'ma childish fuck

I love toys so I'm by the buck

I hate to lose so I play too rough

I speak my mind they say I say too much

Minus the hip-hop, cops say I don't say enough

I know they listenin' to my raps

While I'm out runnin' theses laps

Tryna make my paper stack

It's like this and like that

I think I'm KRS

I think I'm dead prez

Think I'm Tupac, ****

I need some fuckin' meds

Think I'm Eminem

I'm going crazy

Shoot in front the shop

Nas and AZ

Yeah

I never planned to make it to a old ****

Plant the bag, 560 off a zone, ****

Dip my Giovanni feet in chrome, ****

Drop them bitches on Pirellis

Hit the road with 'em

I should get the cover of the Rolling Stone, ****

I should perform at the Old Republic or Rome, ****

I'm not a rapper or a poet

I'm a poem, ****

Ain't it amazing how I'm standing on my own, ****

Always pull up in foreign

That's never loaned ****

Always speaking my music straight

From the soul, ****

My business partners

Jewish but I'm all ****

Still ghetto, that ain't wrong, is it?

Way I see it, long as I ball, ****

I'm a California don, ****

Hundred thousand on my car, ****

You know very well who you are, ****

Look

I been that **** 'fore the fame happened

That tell them hoes go get my name tatted

I rock a Rolly, 'cause my game classic

And repped L.A. before it came back in

I know y'all see me in my lane smashin'

I know y'all hate me with a strange passion

I made example out y'all lame asses

I love my life, y'all could hate that shit

All the smart money got they bets on me

And all them real **** wish the best for me

All these bad bitches got some sex fo' me

Shout out them bad bitches getting dressed for me

They down to stand in line, 'cause it's well worth it

Pull up to my shows in Chanel purses

They jeans fit the worst, but they smell perfect

Never argue with they ****

But they yell verses

Ay

I'm true to this game

Gimme that pussy 'fore she tell me her name

Ay

I'm true to this game

All money in, no money out, on my chain

Ay

I'm true to this game

No guarantees

You gotta live for today

Ay

I'm true to this game

Do it big so they remember your name

Hussle

Ay

I'm true to this game

Gimme that pussy 'fore she tell me her name

Ay

I'm true to this game

All money in, no money out on my chain

Ay

I'm true to this game

No guarantees

You gotta live for today

Ay

I'm true to this game

Do it big so they remember your name

Hussle

We still them same **** that we used to be

Blacc Sam in that sedan

And the coupe is me

Hundred thousand for the car, so the roof was free

While I'm in it, flashback

On how it used to be

Wildin' ****, can't relax

It was the youth of me

That make the smoker buy the bullets for a shootin' spree

Found myself, same time family losin' me

But all that violence from the past is what produced a G

All the real L.A. **** know the truth is me

No hotline, homie

I could tell your future free

Get on your marathon till you bruise your feet

Or run the streets until the reverend writes a eulogy

Fish bowl in the six with all my jewelry

'Cause I heard my haters is supposed to be shootin' me

I'll never let a broke bitch influence me

Slauson Ave, gettin' money

And the proof is me

'Cause I tell everybody all the time

Own your masters

Own your catalog

Can't none of these **** say they own they masters

And their catalog

If they do, they lyin' to you

Or they gon' say they own some of it

Or they gon' buy it back

All that is bullshit

Just had to get out our little thing together

We picked up distribution

Now we're strong

Now we legit

Na' mean

And we we we a force to be reckoned with right now

Word up