Frontline Grape

[Intro]
Watts like Compton
Compton like Watts (yeah)
Loading up the heat
Couple Tecs, couple Glocks (brrt, brrt)
[Verse 1]
Black flag Santana
Posted at the corner by the scanner
Purple for the grapes, stained bandana
Big drum hang, kick back like a hammer
Tana, Front, Palmer, Grape in the same frame
Lil homie only fifteen, but his aim game
Steel face, steel toes on the main lane
One call, whole block in the same gang (yeah)
[Chorus]
Watts like Compton, Compton like Watts (like Watts)
Slide for the set, we connect these blocks (these blocks)
Black flag waving, purple for the grapes (for the grapes)
Frontline with my section, we don't bend, don't break
Watts like Compton, Compton like Watts (like what?)
Name on the wall, every cut, every spot (every spot)
Black flag Santana, purple in the drapes
Front, Palmer, Grape on the front lines paved
[Verse 2]
Concrete hot, little cousins in the yard, they aware
Grandma praying in the kitchen, flour dust in the air
Car pull slow, everybody just stare
Code word drop, then we vanish from there
Chain on tuck when the rollers spin back
County blues in the closet by the old Raiders hat
Ink say Tana on his wrist, that's fact
If he ride, then I ride, we attached to the pack (on God)
[Chorus]
[Chorus]

rap, Hard West Coast street rap, swung drums and sub-heavy bass. Menacing bell loop with eerie pads under a clipped male vocal. Verses stay tight and punchy with ad-libs tucked in the sides, hook explodes with stacked chants and crowd energy, then beat drops out for final bar emphasis and a siren riser back into the loop.