My Gang Songtext / Lyric

[Born Divine]

Yo, your boy Born back, one hot track

Another masterpiece for all my hood niggas

The sting in the street, trying to survive, man

We gotta get right and take care of fam

So we hustle son, and play the block heavy

I never snitch and never ran, when the chops sweat me

I earn my stripes, listen, from the streets to prison

Niggas know me, dog, and my divine mission

I got the game now, like me and money green

On the compound, yo, this a lock down

And yea as clear as dawn and harm city Born

Reppin' B-More for life, with that heat drawn

I'm bout to take off boy, light years gone

Lightspeed on, I breeze by, like whooo

The way you going, to the top, man

I can't stop fam, can't you niggas, tell?

Look at this cartel, we moving weight now

My CD's jamming like they told vows

My flow so different, with so many styles

Plus my voice ill, you boys better chill

Cuz my fam kill, shhh, don't squeal

Wheels peel out, and the darkness appear

Like roaches when they see the lights

You better get it right, cuz we ain't come to fight, ight?



[Cappadonna]

Sick with the flows, I spit for hoes

I grind everyday, fuck cheeks in they holes

Spark my yae, I'm still ghetto, with t-shirts

Jeans hard and stiff, I don't give a fuck

Shit, my Skwad is thick, we don't fall back

Fuck, we in charge of the shit, fly suit, red Havana Joe's

Muslim oil, I'm hood, nigga, what? Man, you know I'm spoiled

New York City, what, you know I'm loyal

Baltimore City, I got love for you

Popped off the first time that I ever saw you

Murdaland mixed with New York music

It's something in the cosmic, making me use this

I move slick, jump over cunts, prostitutes bitch

Get up to my hair, the grooves is a bitch

The Better Life, more papers, hoes and fishsticks

Biscuits, sneak 'em in the club, icepicks

Me and Clayborne, yo, we keep us a nice chick

The police they ain't got us in they vicegrips



[Little Clayway]

Chilling in a nice whip, staying on some real shit

Look kid, we got skills to pay the bills, and eat a meal, for real

Even if a nigga gotta get killed

I'mma get mine, fuck standing in that checkline, waiting on the government

I'd rather grab the tech nine, fuck, go through hard times

All the time, it's rough on the brother

Got the d's, to stick up hoes and my baby mother

Not a lover, I gotta use the rubber with the chick

Can't trust her, child support sending me case numbers

Game is sour, streets going under

Uh, money is power, we ain't getting younger

Yo, I'm like a lion with a five day hunger

And I shine like the sun, in the middle of summer

Uh, give me a beat and I flip that

Start a record label and show you how I did that

Give me some dat, you know it cost niggas some stacks

Plus a nigga did it from scratch

Used to be pushing them cracks, when a nigga had

BBS's on the Ac', caught a flashback

Grown now, speaking on facts

Still talk slow when I rap, my nigga Cap

My nigga Born in the back

Wu-Tang, Clayway, what's fucking with that?



[Chorus 2X: Cappadonna]

My gang gon' kick ya'll ass

My gang gon' kick ya'll ass

My gang gon' kick ya'll ass

And stomp ya'll niggas out



[Outro: DJ Fontane]

Yeah, the Better Life Movement

Masterminds Productions

Your boy DJ Fontane, Clayway Records

You know how we hold it down

Wu-South, uh