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letra de servin' 'em heat (west coast classics radio) - south central cartel

[intro: havoc the rhime son]
199 m-th-f-ckin’ 4
south central cartel is back in the house
prodeje, havikk the rhyme son and the mouthpiece
and we straight servin your -ss heat

[verse 1: prodeje]
m-th-f-ckas gettin clowned like i said in the 9-1
but 94 is in effect if you want some
funk fo’ yo’ trunk, bring it on if it’s on then it’s poppin
and only for the real car droppin
g sh-t, n-gga through the hood’s in the s-c
p da r da o da d da e da j, that is me
comin’ short i don’t think so, n-ggas gotta float style
this lil’ n-gga still loco
8-9’s where the hustlers dwell
you wanna know where i’m from: s-c cartel
to the crips and the bloods, i’m a homie
many n-ggas talk sh-t
and get banked with the o-e
regulatin off pet-tions, calling on the d-l
that’s where the real o.g.’s bail
down low in a short coupe
knock knock for the hoes in the hood tryin to be suited
it’s all good when i’m creepin
back street lights on and m-th-f-ckas ain’t sleepin’
i know my city so i’m rollin, n-ggas tried to sw-ng with this
but south central’s kinda dangerous

[hook]
s-c n-gga kickin gangsta sh-t
cartel gonna get my back
s-c n-gga kickin gangsta sh-t, fool
run up and i’ma serve you heat

[verse 2: havikk]
breakin m-th-f-ckas off, n-gga for the hoo-ride
a true g from the c finna g-slide
strapped cause it’s on if them n-ggas runnin up play the back in
cause i’ma clown with my mac-10
big g’s in the hood stay down for a n-gga
hoes ride d-cks cause we got bigger
90 m-th-f-ckin’ 2 street
s-c cartel bailin through the mist, servin much h-ll
n-ggas fronted on a n-gga in the 93
the little loc’s bustin caps for the bigger g
peelin n-ggas cap quick
i let the khakis hang get ripped for the n-ggas wanna set trip
surely loc’s with the locs
glock in my drawers f-ckin with the old folks
knuckle headed n-gga in the hood gettin’ lit off the e.t. and o.e
layin in the cut for the police
h-a to the v-i double m-th-f-ckin k
creepin on yo’ -ss with an ak
at the park shootin’ hoops
and finna get my strap on
smokin’ n-ggas cause i’m jail pro

hook

[verse 3: prodeje]
i’m from a hood where the real n-ggas come-up
some gang bang, some slang but i’m dealin in the rap game
you try to figure who i run with
the s-c to the m-th-f-ckin c, that’s all b-tch
and in the end i’ma maintain
m-th-f-ckas hittin dips try to main but i’m insane
so i wouldn’t trip n-gga cause i got a clip
for the 9, hanging on my m-th-f-ckin hip
you need to kick it in the city with me
and rhyme son’s peeling caps on the suckers actin sh-tty with me
and m-th-f-ckas still flossin, still tryin to o.g
on the slap smokin e.t

[verse 4: havikk]
hangin on the m-th-f-ckin deuce
i saw my cousin prod hit the floor with a m-th-f-ckin’ small coupe
mouthpiece got the tec for yo’ -ss and it’s over
and en vogue couldn’t hold ya
n-ggas yellin i’ma a 8-7 gangsta
think what you want, i keep one in the chamber
a real cartel n-gga
finger on the trigger if you step i’ma put yo’ -ss in the river
shootin dice in the hood buckin n-ggas for their last end
in a mood to get my blastin
hittin dips cause i’m down with the crips and the bloods g
and m-th-f-ckas can’t fade me

[hook]

- south central cartel

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