creepin’ lyrics – brownside

kicking it, strap on my side and i’m so high
thinking bout them putos that tried to do the drive-by
creeping in the alley, ese this ain’t the valley
cholos are deep in a f*cking brown caddie
drop to the floor, a f*cking four door
(there’s some putos we jump)
ese they’re coming for more petho
watch real close as i level
his head to the seat, my quette he hands me
six feet deep is where this culo stays
although in a coma for a couple of days, anyways
that’s what i see on 21 street, where we meet in the big sc
south central is loco represento
the crazy *ss eastside is in your f*cking mental
lento, but harder than a motherf*cker
catch me on a bad day knockin out a clucker

[chorus x2]
creepin through my neighborhood
quette on my side, always up to no good
on the eastside, where the balas fly
only true gangsters ese, i don’t lie

now all you cholos know we gotta handle our streets
always keeping trucha cuz the black and whites creep
all gotta pay dues, think it’s time to take a cruise
bensando in my hand, f*ck them fools
they throw a rat on the f*cking murder rap
now it’s time for us to go on back
simon, we’re the ones you putos can not stand
i’m coming to get you with a quette in my hand
d*mn there he goes, stop, i go, i caught his *ss quick
nada me duro puro, blu blu to his stomach i stuck
two balas at first then one on top for luck
f*ck i gotta go, this puto needs no more
to make our escape we just drove away slow
we gotta handle ours, leaving scars
q-vo to the homies behind bars

[chorus x2]

as i light and hit the sherm stick
i sit back and think of doing crazy sh*t
so we roll, and it’s late at night
got my little homey sharp, and wicked by my side
rolling in the g-ride heading out the east side
ahora en la noche some bendejo dies
simon, it’s all a gang trip
if you’re in it and you know it say “you better not slip”
crazy cholos don’t give a f*ck
simon, f*ck the juras my d*ck they can suck
straight gang-banging till the day i die
senor wes i’m innocent, i don’t lie
big pantalones, creased out, t-shirts
hitting it with the homies always putting in work
sur, x-tres is where the f*ck i roam
los angeles (east side) is where i call my home

[chorus x2]

enemigas try and fade, when we show up they run away
i guess they seen us coming with our guns ready to spray
you look like a b*tch when you run from us
i know you know we got guns that bust
plus you know i’ll peel your f*cking cap
didn’t catch you yesterday but i’ma get you off the map
so strap, cuz they only way you’re lasting if you’re f*cking blasting
never recognize me cuz i’m always masking on a mission
all the santos missing, then they shoot this fool and then start dissing
display my motherf*cking gangster’s way
spit on his *ss, tu pinche madre
just like that, making putos disappear
y que, at least i’m still here
no fear, those majotes and my mexican pride
jump in the lowride and cruisin through my east side

[chorus x2]

/ brownside lyrics