Texty: Flamin. Flamin: B-Dawgs Come Better. Backdown Denver Lane.

[STACIE LUVLY ONE]
I stumbled on this photograph
It kinda made me laugh
It took me way back
Backdown Denver Lane...
(Buck buck with the Studio Gangsta)
(Me and my homies are goin')
Backdown Denver Lane...
(Buck buck with the Studio Gangsta)
(Me and my homies are goin')
Backdown Denver Lane...
(Buck buck with the Studio Gangsta)
(Me and my homies are goin')
Backdown Denver Lane...
It took me way back

[STUDIO GANGSTA]
I'm chillin' in my hood with the homies gettin' bent
This is West/Side Denver, 111 percent
Crackin' those Four-O's, gonna kill a 9-0
We creeped in a Duster and busted on the hustlers
They couldn't make ?a make-up his passengers?
Imagine (?we them gangstas? ?? some empty cartridges)
75 round hollow points, you Crabs get the point
Another Ricket got smoked like the joint
Reload the jammies to milk some "Rice Crispies"
But the Stones is deep, we pull some skirts on the "Sissies"
Our driver got scared so we had to remove her
(Fuck that bitch) we went bustin' on the "Boovers"
One was dressed in Gucci but claimin' "Hoochie Coochie"
He could never be a soldier like Tone Allen Fugee
Or my big brother King Babalu from Piru
If we kill one Ricket, then we gots to kill two
We out fightin' and slicin' but not like Tyson
Dressed in red, sellin' dope, livin' hard (sacrificin')
Our lives is on the calendar, it's sure to come
But my head is hard, I say: "Fuck "Snot Guns"!"
Then wipe my nose, hey, something's itchin' me
I scratched me knee, killed a B.G. flee
Got hungry, stuck in the kitchen
Killed a big plate of "Eggs, Toast and Grits"
Then melt some cheese on my bread and I kill the "Cheese Toast"
Kill a Front Street, Bacc Street and kill a "Meatloaf"
Kill a "Shoe-Lace" (buck-buck) by time I'm tight
Kill a "Fake Street", die tryin' to fight
The Denver Lane Gang (buck-buck), so you bet not chuckle
Fuck ???, we beat Crabs with brass knuckles
Cause one slipped in the hood and tried to cross out Denver
We beat his ass to a pulp, a day he'll always remember
But he can't, B-Blood's is layin' dead
In the middle of the street, red flag on his head
Compliments from the Denvers, and we don't care
Kill a "Nappy Head", yeah, tell 'em come to here
Kill the "Compton Crabs", "Long Bitch" and "Pooh Butts"
Kill the P.J. Watts and "Waffles", we swallow 'em up
Kill the ??? sprayin' with the Uzis
Kill a "Four Tramp Monkey Street" plus the "Five-Dookies"
A bitch is the reason I made this rhyme
Miss Drag, also known as Miss Frankenstein
A killer rollin' one hundred
While I'm holdin' one hundred
Dollar bills in my pocket
And stoppin' feedin' my stomach
To break the hundred, killed you like that
And that ain't shit, my pocket is still on fat
My homie lives in the Front, Monte ??? got my side
Trey K's in the back, and he's strapped in his black ride
Waitin' on nuthin', about to go on a mission
All gats are loaded, keys in the ignition
Let's go! Finger points are framin'
Saw a Crab on the way, Monte was pointin' and aimin'
We enter their hood, I grinned and patted my .9
Last time they was scared and spared by One-Time
Trey's my dog, and saw the nigga in flew
Lyn gave me the scoop, so I jumped out the Coupe
Cocked the shell in the chamber, felt just like a stranger
Right behind this Crab who don't know he's in danger
I speeded my step, quiet as kept
And the way I was dressed you'd probably think I was a prep
I said: "What's up Blood?" He said: "You don't bang"
You's a motherfuckin' liar, this is West/Side Lane Gang
Bang bang bang, that's what I did
Jet back to the hood, 109th and Fig'
Then went to Gills to buy some drink drink
It's a big hoo-ridin', hmm, let me think
I grab the gin and 'secco, oh yes, we must
And took one freak to the house, you know what? (She freaked us)
And turned on the news around 11 o'clock
It's just another "Rice Crispies" snapped, crackled and popped

Backdown Denver Lane...
(Buck buck with the Studio Gangsta)
(Me and my homies are doin')
It took me way back
Lane, Lane, Lane, Lane...