What up, what up. Yeah, yeah. East coast, west coast, flava in the mothafuckin house.. . (Hurricane G). Hurricane G and the m*thaf*ckin Delinquent Habits.
[Verse 1]. I see them punk putos they coolin' by the lockers. Sellin' crystal to their women fine freaks turned flaca. Your lady say she love you but you locked inside.
Yeah. I fetch my brazos hardcore down from the click-hi. Who's that - emanatin' funk through the speaker. Bass gets to pumpin' rucka's get to pumpin'.