FROM THE BARRIO TO THE GRAVE

For my dogs in the grave, I’m still rollin’ on these culeros,

Still stackin’ this cash while I’m fuckin’ these Bitch’s ,

I’m Hear these fake ones talk, not knowin’ real ones fire that piece

But I’m still out here, makin’ sure the feria don’t stop.

Rest easy, homie, you know I’m still in the streets,

Eyes wide open, lookin’ ‘round, makin’ sure these bitches don’t put me down,

Still steppin’ on grass, while still puttin’ sweet blood money in my pocket,

Still ridin’ for my homies ’til they carve out my name.

⸻

Ayy, I’m that vato they forgot to kill,

Still bustin’ on sight, still chasin’ a mil,

Still sippin’ on pain like a bottle of yak,

Still blastin’ these snakes when they stab in the back,

Keepin’ my vatos on my mind while I’m gettin’ this bread,

Burnin’ this barrio onto my skin, I know where my loyalty lands,

Got love for my G’s, fuck love for these hoes,

They just diggin’ for gold, while I’m clutchin’ my goals.

My eyes are patrollin’ the block, ready to torch any ese that crosses,

Homies watch from the clouds while I break all the molds,

Ain’t a thing that can stop me but death or my trigger,

Still ridin’ for the fam ’til my fuckin’ heart stop.

⸻

For my dogs in the grave, I’m still huntin’ these culeros,

Foldin’ the fake ones, squeezin’ these triggers,

Tossin’ the metal after bodies drop,

So these punk-ass cops can’t pin me on the spot.

Rest easy, homies, while you close your eyes,

I still got your back even as you lie.

I know it’s comin’, homie — I ain’t in denial,

I live in truth, been ready for this trial.

One day they’ll punch my ticket, that’s facts,

Probably some lil’ vato tryna earn his stripes,

Catch me slippin’, that’s how this game feeds,

Ain’t nobody make it out these fucked up streets.

But ‘til then, I’m bringin’ hell to these blocks,

Blood on my hands, still squeezin’ these triggers,

Still stackin’ feria, still holdin’ my ground,

Still a wolf in the mist, layin’ suckers down.

⸻

To all my vatos out in the hood…

Keep your spot tight, keep it under control.

And when you hear your dead homies getting louder…

Just know, that time’s getting closer.

Nobody makes it out the streets alive.

But don’t go out like no little bitch,

No little snitch.

Your homies died for you — you die for them.

Don’t be a scared little vato.

Get out there, keep your name up,

Become a boss — put these putos in the ground.

I’m a real motherfuckin’ vato.

A real motherfuckin’ G.

I ain’t ever afraid.

I ain’t ever gonna hide.

So fuck you and your fucking grave bitch ass motherfucker!!!!