Chorus Do Thangs)



Crestside It's tha Triple C

Crestside It's poppin' in tha Crestside

Crestside Livin' that pimp life

Tryin' to get a pimp ride



(Mac Mall)



Shit I'll take ya way back

Spittin' game longer than the gateway track

It must have been a blessin' raised as an adolescent

And mack 11 testin' in tha glass house

Straight twamped out cuz hang gotta Caddy on them thangs

Wit a phat ass TV so at age 9 I wanted that to be me

And now big A.C. can make in million on the Vegas strip

Since 1976 we been infuenced by pimps

And y'all suckas, is lucky that Smooth can't walk

Cuz a lot of y'all fools would be outlined in chalk

And I'd like to say what's up, to my nigga Ronny Wenn

He's a G when it comes to strugglin' hustlin'

To the top, Rest in Peace to Pop and Chris Macabee

He put the Mac in me, Thats why I ride a brome today

Straight game, the crestside way, we goin' pop all day

Whether weed or Yay, I'm still stressin' cuz it seems like last night

we lost

Mike,

S double, and damn God needs to let the real nigga's live,

But Nokey is gone and Freddy is dead

In the Crestside



(Chorus)



Now 95 is the day and soldiers shootin' for the game,

Big Buggy's a straight killa servin' rocks on the way

The Double R hit them banks wit' glocks in the Pelican Bay

You disrespect the Country Club and fool prepare for the shank,

This ain't no overnight shit

We been at this for years

Back when Finch rolled a Benz and Baby Frank was gettin' his

So if you ask me, why my fondest memories is bout' shootouts

And high speeds with the police

Spill Hennessey for D-Boy and house Dubee,

It's us against them so I stay true to the triple C

6' in the morn choppin' quit low on the St's set up shop

Throughout the "V" to move the next key

Rivals be snitchin' but cook em' all in a crock pot

Floss old schools on gold shoes and let the hoes jock

Crestside shit, Aliens wanna copy-cat

All in a city full of squares, playa's, and dirty mack's

Wanna-be gangsta's, and small tymer's tryin' to act hard

Well real-ass soldiers, a chosen few rollin' like hard

North of Vallejo, cuddies puttin' in the major work

Open your eyes and take a look at my crazy turf.

It's called the...



(Chorus)



Back when that Piggy P was a crooked cop

Back when that K St. mob ruled the Kemper block

Back when we said fuck the world, because we loved Benz

Do you remeber Figgaro and tryin' to hustle for ends

Hopin' that I stick to my grind and stay real to the street

One day I'll talk on Mobile phones and have a Chevy Caprice

Wit a couple of mounts and some slam in my trunk

And a spliff of that zesty cuz we don't fuck wit' them blunts

But in this day and age cuddy, this done got ill

Youngsta's that won't a mill and ain't afraid to kill

What the crooked game deals baby bloods gettin' spilled

Now it's blunt packin' chumps that try to set up shop where we chill

So it's all to the hood cuz when we mob I'm stayin' hip to the time,

Got my mind on my money keep one hand on my nine

On the same street corner where I was brought up and raised

The only chance I get for peace is when I'm drunk or I'm blazed

If this shit soundin' far-fetched and you think that I lied

Grab your nuts nigga , we goin' for a ride through the Crestside



(Do Thangs)



This game don't stop from the Crestside

O.G.'s young pimps, playa's thats right



(Chorus 3X)



(Do Thangs)



This game don't stop from the Crestside

Tec nines, mack joints nigga thats right

This game don't stop from the Crestside

O.G.'s young pimps, playa's thats right



One Luv,

Dolomite