[Intro: Turf Talk & E-40]
Turf Talk!
E-Feezy!
Goldie!
[Chorus: Goldie]
Ain't my youngins on the block got them things that pop (Got them things that pop)
Except my turf, they all know they don't play on the block (They don't play on the block)
We just fight over dice, came back, who's next to get shot? (Next to get shot?)
We checked up, we throw up, smoke all your pot, nigga what?!
This is head (Head), bust (Bust), shit (Shit), what? (What?)
Lay it (Lay it), busted (Busted), up, quick, what? (What?)
Recognize the Glocks, TECs, and chops, what? (What?)
Yellow tape and chops, that Turf Talk, what? (What?)
[Verse 1: Goldie]
I'm a motherfuckin' beast from the North Cal' streets
Takin' fools my attitude, niggas know how I eat
I bleed the block, barefoot, no socks and shoes on my feet
And small shockers who do stylin', 100-degree heat
Okay, now wait a minute, things want me to get gangsta with it
I'ma bring some AKs up in it, grenades up in it
First he has to drink AIDS up in it
Smash-mouth my niggas playin' keys
Pray on the weed, savin' the heat
Know down, not deep as around here 'less I say so
Comprende? (Capeesh?)
Hot like firecrackers and J-Lo's twat
We got things for the lil', for em' half-chickens, the quillow block
That thang go RRAH! Hit you in yo' two
Dick-suckas' tryna move all my turf
I even give it to my customers
Can't smoke shit, put a nigga with extendo clip
Damage all up in your shit, hookin' up tombs, feel it in your wrist
Purple pulse, slumped down on yo' porch, blunt still burnin'
707, we early, niggas is just learnin' our hood!
Turf Talk!
E-Feezy!
Goldie!
[Chorus: Goldie]
Ain't my youngins on the block got them things that pop (Got them things that pop)
Except my turf, they all know they don't play on the block (They don't play on the block)
We just fight over dice, came back, who's next to get shot? (Next to get shot?)
We checked up, we throw up, smoke all your pot, nigga what?!
This is head (Head), bust (Bust), shit (Shit), what? (What?)
Lay it (Lay it), busted (Busted), up, quick, what? (What?)
Recognize the Glocks, TECs, and chops, what? (What?)
Yellow tape and chops, that Turf Talk, what? (What?)
[Verse 1: Goldie]
I'm a motherfuckin' beast from the North Cal' streets
Takin' fools my attitude, niggas know how I eat
I bleed the block, barefoot, no socks and shoes on my feet
And small shockers who do stylin', 100-degree heat
Okay, now wait a minute, things want me to get gangsta with it
I'ma bring some AKs up in it, grenades up in it
First he has to drink AIDS up in it
Smash-mouth my niggas playin' keys
Pray on the weed, savin' the heat
Know down, not deep as around here 'less I say so
Comprende? (Capeesh?)
Hot like firecrackers and J-Lo's twat
We got things for the lil', for em' half-chickens, the quillow block
That thang go RRAH! Hit you in yo' two
Dick-suckas' tryna move all my turf
I even give it to my customers
Can't smoke shit, put a nigga with extendo clip
Damage all up in your shit, hookin' up tombs, feel it in your wrist
Purple pulse, slumped down on yo' porch, blunt still burnin'
707, we early, niggas is just learnin' our hood!
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