[Chorus: Frank V]

When the chronic smoke clears we'll still be standing

2013 we're still commanding

Still got the block on lock airtight

So tell me what that Low Pro like, biatch



[Royal T]

Step into the hood like a motherfucking G

It's the number one vato in your hood, Royal T

President of Latin Rap, strapped at all times

Cuz vatos in the cut always trying to steal my shine

Got soldiers on the line with sixteen shotters

Waiting for me to say ""Do what you gotta""

The next level shit, fuck the rap game

I'll make it rain ese, I bring the pain

Rip out your frame, blow out your brain

Fuck what you claim, it's the Low Pro Gang

Got em running scared, got em running fast

Running for my gun cuz they know I'm gonna blast

Rat-tat-tat-tat it's the rat-tat-tat-tater

The damage is done, apologies don't matter

So cross your fingers cuz you crossed the line

Now you crossed me ese, now you'll cross my nine



[Chorus x2]



[Frank V]

This type of shit got me all in a rage

This type of shit makes me wanna get the gauge

And do a drive by on the motherfucking nation

These vatos keep chipping away at my patience

I'm going out of my head, suicide

Fuck it, better yet homicide, I'm in my bucket

Got my mack mill'n on my lap chilling

And I got my shotgun sitting shotgun

Ese you ain't got one, only in your raps

I heard your cd, didn't even get a scratch

Untouchable like Elliot Ness

No vest, I'm hard to move like a pound of stress

Causing mass hysteria in your area

Fuck around with me and ese I'll bury ya

So here's the shovel fool, get to digging

I'll piss on your grave, grab the brew and get to swigging



[Chorus x2]



[Yogi]-acapo

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