Addictive C-Bo (Ft. Brotha Lynch Hung, Dead mic & Slick Pulla)

[Verse 1: Slick Pulla]
You don't ride delinquent
Roll with nothing but misfits
Grind all day, get my money in a stink pit
Or should I say a stink pipe, or should I say a stink hole
You going down fast, like you stuck in a sink hole
I'm at your door, no need to cover up your peephole
It's just me and the guns and a couple amigos
If G were here today, would holler hasta manana
Sooner or later, we gone be at your ass partner
I like to get it poppin', I don't be doing it talkin'
Walk in and push your belt like, Christopher Walken
All out war, but it started all over flowers
Now it's hit some broad dinner
While you cowards be bullet dodged

[Hook: Dead Mic]
High speed, in the fast lane
Ride hard, got the hustle in my damn veins
Stacks or racks stuffed in my Gucci bag
No rehab, I'm addicted to the damn game

[Verse 2: C-Bo]
I told Dead Mic got ya homie
Vet, couple choppers on me
WestSide nigga, where they're known to grow the best broccoli homie
Lookin' out for the drive-by, your man'll go missing
So I keep my neighborhood on lock like we landed in San Quinn
Yeah, these niggas know what it is
I'm in this shit for the long run
Stuffed Ts, khakis, and wife beaters with long guns
Where the color of your shoestrings, will send a nigga on one
Have niggas throwin' gang signs, shootin' trying to dome one
The respect's amazing, street cred. through the roof
I really did main line time, they said I'm the truth
Cause I ain't never whine
And I'll be dead before you others see me on the news
Tryin' to shed time, tryin' to fight crime
Nah, that ain't like mine
We had a lifeline
We still got niggas bouncin' back off nines and dimes
And get right back in that kitchen
Mask on, and back to whippin'
A fiend for the money, man this shit is so addictive