[Daz Dillinger]
Yes, yes yall,yes yes yall, yes, yes, yes, yes,yall
Yes yes yall, yes yes yall, yes, yes, yes, yes,yall
We got some people on the microphone here tonight
They coming to give you to you rough, rugged, and raw
You know that westcoast feel, yea (All that shit)

[Daz Dillinger]
Watch out its creep to, what the fuck can he do
Slowly but surely death gun comes to greet you
Fuck a posse homeboy, I run with a gang
Blasting niggas for anything, looking sneaky, looking strange
Me and my capos from the pass kick gas
Smoke a pound of grass every doubt about cash
Glocks, ski mask, we be on a mash
Clush crash so don't even try to ask
I'm rough, roughed, and raw, and what you seen you just saw
What happen when dat nigga daz, on the mic rappin
I take control and move you body and soul
With just one 'ho', I move the crowd with a flow

[Chorus 2x: Daz Dillinger]
Can I get bucc, Can I get bucc
To all my homies and my ridaz who don't give a fuck
Who acting to tough, and acting to rough
Come around here nigga, get bucc

[Soopafly]
You mother fuckers in action
We blast niggas for asking the ghetto fab satisfaction
Barrel directed to your bone marrow, hit cha
Infiltrated to get cha, damage yo completed vanish til you can't manage
Its the gangstas and pimps with heated clips
You can't hide during the day, we like Gladys Knight like Pips
Mashing on these niggas for chips
If you wanna ride dip, like these Rus and Rips should
Throw up your hood, its all good
Nigga what, gangsta anemic stripe
Super posting, with a thirty-eight heated up in my holster
Blasting who ever stop from rocking coast to coasting
I burn and roast a nigga who figure that
When you pull out a strap we ain't right, where my gangstas at (Right Here)
Show up to blow up your block
Out for the cream like the crop
I tell these niggas don't stop

[Chorus 2x: Daz Dillinger and Soopafly]
Can I get bucc, Can I get bucc
To all my mother fucking ridaz who don't give a fuck
Who acting to tough, and acting to rough
Come around here nigga, get bucc

[Crooked I]
To all of my niggas that couldn't crack britches
Staking riches, dipping something vicious
Tapping switches, macking and cracking bitches
This rapping business is phony as hell
So I'ma ride until they throw me an L
Like all of the homies in jail
I'm gun cocking, concocting shocking plots, so I can clock a knot
Hit the spot with my trunk knocking
Drop tops is the what this poppa pushes
Bearing more arms than octopuses
Gauges and Glocks in bushes
Ready to start the conflict
You off chronic, I'm off atomic energy
Literally, thinking of the bomb shit
Mob wit me, don't mash alone
A chaperone, hoes who love to blow on bones like a saxophone
And when niggas think they Al Kapone
It only takes three steps, draw, squeeze, shoot, you gone
Who am I crooked i, who are they daz and soopafly
On the rooper high, stay true to my click

[Chorus 2x: Daz Dillinger]
Can I get bucc, Can I get bucc
To all my mother fucking ridaz who don't give a fuck
Who acting to tough, and acting to rough
Come around here nigga, get bucc