Ya Getz Clowned - South Central Cartel

Now when I stroll through the streets you wonder will you see me

I keep it low cause the girls wanna gee me

Had to be loc’ed cause I claim South Central

If I get mental I flow slow tempo

Nah punk, I can’t get gaffled

Try to catch me on the streets and you might get gaffled

Prod got a Uzi, straight up, punk

Cold strap in the trunk if you pull a stunt

I get loc’ed and you get smoked cause it’s like that

The Cartel’s gonna get my back

Cause on the streets if the tone of your voice is weak you’re beat

So run up and I’ma serve you heat

Puttin on brass knuckles to bust you in your cranium

You dislike my clique but can’t change em

S.C.C., P-r-o-d

e the j to the e from the L.A.C.

Can get looney, run up duck and get bucked down

In South Central, fool, you gets clowned

(Brother, brother, brother, how you make em get down?)

(Brother, brother, brother, how you make em get down?)

(Streets of South Central)

(Brother, brother, brother, how you make em get down?)

(Now I’m lookin dead at you)

Fool, you get clowned, socked, beat like a sucker

when they don’t know of ya

Got a little money, so you claim hustler

Yeah, the streets made a pooh-put gangster

Bought you a six-fo', now you’re rollin

Got a Cut and your Danes are golden

Call yourself evil, are you serious?

Man, the chronic’s got you delirious

Your raw dog is a buster

If he saw you’re gettin rat-packed he won’t help ya

Now, check the 89 Hustlers

We’re not a gang but we’re down stay down for us

With a six-fo' Chevy, Uzi’s and money

Homeboy, ain’t a damn thing funny

You better walk it like you talk it

Cause if you can’t back up your shit you gettin lynched

With your khakis low and locs, what you thinkin?

You could roll the hood without sinkin

Into a straight 211?

Boy, you’re buggin

The pavement’s what you be huggin

Homebody’s gettin lit and then they get they clown on

Makin noise at the park cause it’s like home

Doin dips, shootin hoops, gettin drunk

Lookin out for a buster punk

The OG’s stay down with the scene

The little locs ill cause the youngsters are mean

Rollin up strapped and they liable to gat ya

Go to come right back at ya

What you gonna say when the 8's on your shoulder

Your money is gone cause they know you a roller

Come up short or get smoked like a clocker

Call one-time and get labelled a sucker

You got beef, then roll up like a soldier

Handle yours and go out much bolder

and you can still be down

But run up weak on the streets and get clowned