Tookie Knows Pt. 2 Remix
[Verse 1: Azure The Paradox]
We might die for this shit nigga
We might die for this shit nigga
Gang banging that gang shit
Dont worry never been a crip
Ten bodies that's an estimate
Look at you you ain't relevant
Im an arrogant escapist
Who is celibate but not methodist
Its evident I ain't pessimist
And prevalent for the sediment
She affectionate Im benevolent
Developing to experiments, too intelligent
No longer a resident of the system
Im traveling this distance, Its been written
Cause cataclysms to an organism with pistols
Tookie Knows its Custom, Passed down tradition
Motherfuck competition I own this position
Statistic restricted, Worsening condition
Lost your existence to ballistics
Left shit like Britain, My symptoms are listed
I need no assistance, I surpass your wisdom
Get pulled like a tooth nigga
[Hook]
We might die for this shit nigga
We might die for this shit nigga
Gang banging that gang shit
Dont worry never been a crip
We might die for this shit nigga

[Verse 2: Mantis]
Go figure, gangbangers all around the block
Need cigarettes, jump a dude like kangaroos finger on the Glock
Alarm clock your time is up
Slimes and crips so the crime is up
Sock a bitch if she talk back
Crips wanna stop the blood like heart attacks
Arteries, west coast thats a part of me
From the bay to where the Spartans be
Gangbangers live in harmony
Fuck that, you dont wanna see the truth of the matter, where the splatter where you think thoughts into ink blots
You trespassing the spot your ass getting three shots
No nurses, take coin purses while they drink shots
You join hearsts, sirloin beefing, selling TEC no pointburst
Up in they grill you getting smoked till your joints hurt
Battle to the death who get sent to the void first
Point is, dudes is really out here with violent minds
Snorting lines and shoot cohorts just to benefit their grind
Gangbanging, Might die for it
Pain draining, Light high for it
Drugs hidden all around the home
Thugs hitting hoes and getting dome
Seeing green like a green screen, no chroma key, the aroma be
Cup o noodles, cup of lean, trees, they smoke you into comas g
Dopes bringing home the groceries
Just providing like he ‘pposed to be
For the ones that mean most to him
Tryna get enough to last post mortem
Could be on either coast man
Cross the country these hood horrors