Come straight from the West Coast killin' field
Its tha Bone Corleone pimpin' keep it real
Y' all know tha deal
Corn breads and tha thug appeal
Street slang, make the hits that thugs feel
Demons guard ya grill
When they in my scope aim then I shoot to kill
And hater's jealous cuz I'm stackin' hundred dollar bills
Platinum, crushed ice and it's all real
Gospel hip-hop, got it locked still
Who you think it was sprinkled tha game
Wit' west coast gospel rap
Plus a brim