Blood dolls and Fangs

In a world full of fakes and phonies this is the story about the truth in the streets the real homies [announcer style intro]

Lowrider hydraulic, bounce through the fog on Crenshaw,

Chrome .44 gleam like fangs in the moonlight draw.

Warehouse shadows, plastic bitches lined up fake,

Decapitate heads roll, bleach-white necks break.

Vamp crew slither from the crypt, eyes blood-red glow,

Think they eternal? I stake 'em slow, let the real blood flow.

Chop Suey dolls symbolize their phony ass lives,

Sever spines, watch the plastic confetti fly.

West side slaughter, dolls decap, vamps get drained,

Gritty blade work, no mercy in my domain.

From the palm trees to the graves we dig deep,

Gangsta eternal, make the undead creep.

Pull up phantom black, tires screech on the wet pavement,

Vamp lord smirkin', fangs drippin' with that crimson payment.

I swing the machete, first neck pop like a bad check bounce,

Headless torso twitch, crowd scatter in the ounce.

Homie got bit last full moon, turned snake in the grass,

Now he doll-faced traitor, I ash him fast.

Sunrise burn the rest, but I hunt in the eternal night,

Compton king, slayer supreme, takin' flights.

Dolls pile high, vamp dust mix with the lowrider smoke,

West coast code: fake dies, real choke.

No holy water, just hollow tips blessed by the streets,

Story ends bloody—eternal beef.