Verse One: C-Bo

I was born in hell without a pistol

Now how can I survive with one live without a vest and
4-5?
Runnin from the Task Fo' but smashin for my cash

Bankin corners, hop it then I blast on their $$#
See them piggies want me dead for sure or in the pen
Doin 10, instead of me in my Benz on some twins

Sippin Hen, smokin indica bomb
And keep my pedal to the metal til I'm high and gone
I know you rich ^!$$%s hate me, can I keep it real and

Feel this rap %#@!?
Didn't make me, got out the pen and flip the '97
Drop Mercedes, I'm the *?placenta?* of no love

Til the lord save me, straight thugs that'll dump slugs
Til they $#&@in grave, mass murder mother$#&@ers to the
Front page

When we hit, we empty clips til we get paid
I've been a slave from my cradle to the grave
^!$$%, $#&@ the world, I was raised in hell


Chorus: C-Bo


That's why we buck %#@! down and yell "$#&@ the world!"
I'd rather die here in hell then die doin life in jail
But take the shot with a Mac 12, order hits on the *?

Pack tailed?*
>From the block to Wotts, we are thug ^!$$%s raised in
Hell

*repeat*

Verse Two: Big Syke


I'm bailin thru the set wit a 40, smokin a cigarette
Blastin my radio, oldie tunes by The Marvalettes

Gangbangin vets on parole as I stroll thru
They rassle Gz like two craps and they strapped too
Oh how I love these ^!$$%s but I hate em with a passion

But I ride for these mother$#&@ers, when I don't even
Ask
Thug fashion from head to toe, I let the world know

That this is Thug Life, mother$#&@er, til I leave this
Ho
So as my knuckles drag the concrete, big homies hit the

Streets
Transgressions under pressure, preyin on the weak
I sink like a fish, I wish upon a ghetto star

If the enemies come thru and ride on me they won't get
Far
Big homey got out, hold 22's on a hang

Runnin around, sweatin mother$#&@ers, talkin bout
"Let's throw them thangs"
Bang, I hit him with a bat and heard his skull crack

Then I got *?him the wind in the trach?* til he
Shattered, to get the Mac


Chorus

Verse Three: C-Bo


It ain't no love for (*##$ ^!$$%s
As I dump slugs and pull the plug on you (*##$ ^!$$%s

Pick up my phone and have some thugs hit you trick
^!$$%s
Wit on gloves or low tommy guns on them stitch ^!$$%s

Hit ^!$$%s with H-K's, split ^!$$%s with AK's when we
Mash for the cash
Doin a hundred, blastin buck shots off in that $$#

True outlaws ready for war, souls will never die
The same day we meet death, the same day we ride
Dumpin slugs with Tek 9's, more bulletproofs my 4-5

I just let em fly, screamin out "(*##$ ^!$$% die"
We's about be a killer ^!$$%, look outside
Tell me one reason why I should pray for eternal life

Born and taught in hell, with a gun store on every
Corner
Bodyguard, bulletproof doors, it's hard to be a goner
Strapped with heat, these West Coast streets of
Killafornia

From day one, they have straps on em, cos we was raised
In hell

Chorus