Cut ThroatYung Joc

[The Game] (Yung Joc)
Hey Joc (What up nigga?)
That nigga Quik produced this shit?
(Hell yeah) Shit crazy homie (Ha!)

[Hook]
My niggas cutthroat, my niggas cutthroat
I got some killas on the East and the West Coast
Dead prez on your head, get up ho
Uh get up ho, uh get up ho
My niggas cutthroat, my niggas cutthroat
I got some killas on the East and the West Coast
They whip game real good, they got the best dope
Uh get up ho, uh get up ho

[The Game]
I'm comin' straight for your neck dogg
Razor blade, Heckler & Koch
In California niggas back on the block
I'm from Compton motherfucker, the City of G's
We ain't got pretty bitches but we got plenty of these
All my niggas cutthroat, gangbang and cut dope
Original Bad Boys, nigga even Puff' know
We ain't mad about Pac, we know who did it
We just mad that him and Big' got crossed in '9-sizix
I was 16 then, little nigga inspired
Now me and Joc ridin' homie, put that on the wire
If hip-hop was a buildin', I'd set it on fire
And leave everybody to burn except Mya
Ha ha, now fuck you bitch
I'll rescue all my niggas first then let 'em fuck you bitch
On the East Coast, them niggas say I'm dumb hot
And when I'm in the South you can just ask Yung Joc

[Hook]

[Yung Joc]
I know some head changers, total rich to cost
Yeah they head bangin' for less than a brick of soft
Well acquainted with fiends and even dope addicts
My niggas work the triplebeams and they dope at it
Hey, nigga you don't want no static
Holes through your chest, hard to breathe like asthmatics
Just like Big, tell them niggas, kidnap your kids
Fuck em in the ass and throw em over the bridge
When I'm on the East, I'm ballin' with that Jimmy cat
Bad bitches everywhere, they all on my jimmy sack
We blowin' sour deez, hundred-fifty packs
I fuck with real G's, like The Diplomats
When I'm in Cali, nigga we blowin' cess
Call my nigga Cavi, to smoke away my stress
The only coast you'll see locs in Dickie suits on moguls
Chirp my nigga J. Taylor on the Boost Mobile

[Hook]

[Jim Jones]
Now shouts to Yung Joc, I number one the block
You can meet me in the hood, the engine runnin' on my drop
And we was just runnin' from the cops
Cookin' coke over the stove, I do wonders with the pots
I started as a pumper on the block
Either you slang crack rock or you had that wicked jumpshot
Either or, there was no in between
It was either be poor or move coke to the fiends
Twenty it would cost, I was hopin' nineteen
Tacchini Valours, I indulged as a teen
Amongst the murderers, and plus the burglarers
The fly wheely niggas when they start swervin 'em
In them fly rides, niggas like to high side
Til' they caught slippin' and you catch 'em from the blind side
Tap the glass and you give it to 'em nine times
He owed some cash but he didn't meet the timeline

[Hook]