Cross 'Em Out And Put A 'K

(album: Bow Down - 1996)

[Ice Cube:]
Brrrgh!
Ay!
Ay!
In about four seconds, a gangsta will begin to speak

[Mack 10:]
Well it's the mad chicken hawk with the dirty lick style
Been pulling 211's ever since TaDow
It's ten million ways to die, choose it
Mack will hit the loop and loose it
Off this gang-bang music
Slaughter water got the room stunk
I smoke and make dough like Trump
Cooking powder till they chunk, punk!
Straight off dust, nigga trust I'll bust
And cross 'em out and put a'K if they ain't down with us

[Ice Cube:]
It's off the hook, nigga, I'm a Westside crook, nigga
Put 40 motherfucking dollars on my books, nigga
I'm not a MC, I'm not a G
I mean I'm A-to-fuckin'-Z and everything in between
Rappers like gangbanging, 'cause I'm in it to the fullest
And my hood ain't never dodging bullets
It's all about the Bloods and Crips, dogs and rips
Corners and dips, bitches and chips, nigga!

[WC:]
Do-do-do-do-do-do
What's this? My frickeler radar system
Detects busta B-I-itches on the premises
Niggas be dissing on a down low
So now my motto's "Fuck every rapper from the East and the West Coast"
New School, Old School, I hate you motherfuckers
I'm steady plotting, wiping my ass with your album covers
Cross 'em out and put a'K
Even on Sundays nigga, to mothafucking holidays

Hey!
I cross 'em out and put a 'K!

Inglewood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A.!
Ay!
I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A.!
Ay!
I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A.!
Ay!
I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A.!

[Mack 10:]
Goddamn nigga! This shit make me sick
All these West Coast cowards riding New York dick (Brrgh!)
Bustas get sprayed wearing high-top fades
And Kangol's backwards with dark-ass shades
No switchblades, nigga, we shoot
That's how it is on the West when you're true to your roots
So kill the action, punk, hoochie bitches clown
Nigga get your sag on and keep your pants legs down

[Ice Cube:]
Check it! Ho shut your mouth and get naked!
I'm Connected and ain't no bitches singing on this record
No R&B tracks, just niggas on wax
Kicking facts with these gang-bang raps
Every nigga in the industry wanna rap with me
Like it's all good, you ain't from my hood
Nigga, I don't even like your shit, I don't like your crew
I'm true, you're through, nigga fuck you!

[WC:]
Nigga get on, this shit is wack
Fuck that, I bust you in the can with a motherfucking bumper jack
Spit on ya, shit on ya, when I get on ya, piss on ya
Going up in ya, fucking ya, cause I ain't loving none of ya
And even female rappers are getting smacked
Stabbed in the titties and kicked in the back
'Cause I'm a Westside Connection hoodsta
Far from a lover dishing nothing but bullets and dirty rubbers

Ey!
I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A.!
Ay!
I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A.!
Ey!
I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A.!
Ay!
I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A.!

[Ice Cube:]
Brrrgh!
In about four seconds, a killa will begin to speak

[Mack 10:]
Now you can cross out the bustas and snitches
B-Real and Ms. Muggs is like Hollywood bitches
From the niggas I know in the streets I run through
Swear to God bitch real it ain't one dog that know you (not one)
So watch what you say, who ya talk about, you tweekin
And keep hogs out'cha mouth when ya bitch ass is speaking
I'm sick with it, cap at your dome till I hit it
This Westside Connection, Cypress know they can't fuck with it

[Ice Cube:]
Use to get kisses and hugs, now I'm serving ya slugs
Fuck B-Real and Muggs, y'all niggas ain't no fucking thugs
To your surprise, everybody dies
From Colombian neck ties
Covered with flies
Ya fucking maggots, ya fucking faggots
I should alert you, every motherfucker that I know wanna hurt you
So when I pull my spray can to spray
I'm spraying C-H-K all motherfucking day

[WC:]
I once knew this bitch by the name of Q-Tip
Who claim he got a problem with this gangsta shit
Behind closed doors, running his mouth like a trick and
'Til this nigga by the name of Dub caught him slipping
Tied his ass up and threw him in the trunk
Put a apple in his mouth then dug his ass out
About a month later they found his body stashed
In a trash bag with a cucumber in his ass

Ay!
I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A.!
Ay!
I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A.!
Ay!
I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A.!
Ay!
I cross 'em out and put a 'K!
Inglewood!
Nigga! To South Central L.A.!

[Ice Cube:]
Don't go chasing waterfalls
Stick to them dicks and balls you're used to
Punk ass motherfuckers!

Brrrrgh!