Tekster: Wicked. Other. Bald And Brown.

Q-Vo Raza
You motherfuckers can call me Wicked
Representando en las pinches calles
This is for the cholas
And the pelones bandieros
You know who you motherfuckers are
Q-Vo
Here to represent
Los Angeles, Sur California
It's still dos uno tres

About that time to jump out of bed
Blood shot my eyes, realized I had to shave my head
Those that know show how nuestras calles roll
While you're in the game ese you claim where you're from
Still the same since the pinche pedo started
Obsorbing thoughts with shots, but won't say it scarred it
Living it, giving it, a voice for our street
Won't except defeat, this loco craves the creep
With me you roll with a flow that runs slow
To understand me loco, 213 controla
The streets where bandieros meet
Boom, beat, embrace defeat
Pistolas bust caps, ese we be rhyming raps
In court fools still squeal, consider them rats
That's just some shit found and the Brown's where we clown
This rola's for cholas the and those bald and brown

[Chorus x2]
Bass turned up to bump Brownside sound
Let them know all around we're the bald and brown
Men, and our bandiero trend
Is M-E-X-I-C-A-N

Se ponle loco, where we roll some putos just don't know
We give a fuck tambien, Eastside South Central
We creap, lurk, kick up dirt, making putos hurt
These pinches locos call it putting in work
Uno saben, otro saben their pistolas pound
Pull the malditos down with no evidence found
No crees, pero loco got two to the chest
Now deceased is where that motherfucker rest
Next to his homey, packing este, lonely
Pointing and telling the judge that they both know me
Trip, two culitos, neta ain't shit
Cuz through their barrio all they got was a dick
We hit, dip, catch a stupid slipping
Pop the clip in, pelones are tripping
Again, puro pinche Mexican
On the creep, staying deep for my Sureno land

[Chorus x2]

White t-shirt, Cortez, and my Levis
Once I shave my head I've completed my disguise
In your eyes you realize que controlo
South Califas con nuestras clickas de cholo
Solo aveces, but not all the time
Wanna know what's on my mind, ese get out of line
A Brownside'll bump it, here to prove something
Vatos from Sur California always dumping
Car to car or even in the street
So trucha motherfuckers cuz it's on when we meet
Heat protected, I never neglect it
The fact that this loco don't know how to act
Just strap and smoke weed to make my eyes bleed
Sin semilla, that means no fucking seed
I light it and smoke it until I choke
No feria in my pocket, damn I gotta get some dough

[Chorus x2]

Hell yea
Ya saben quien es
El pinche maldito, representando de las calles
Lado cafe