[Intro]
(Q-Ball, Q-Ball, Q-Ball, Q-Ball)
So what really happened, n***a?
I understand ain't nobody did shit
Ain't nobody did shit for my cuz
Where them n***as at that said they'd put it all on the line?
'Cause n***a
Only chop they emptied went up toward the sky
I gotta know where n***as heads at
'Cause my cousin still ain't got no peace yet
So all you motherfuckers wanna know where I stand?
N***a, I stand right next to my cousin Emil, n***a
You know what I'm sayin'?
And that's on the Blocc n***a
However you wanna handle this shit, n***a

[Verse 1]
Look up in the sky, it's a motherfuckin' slug
Some n***a done let one off and only my cousin's sheddin' blood
That loccest muthafucka from 29th Street throwin' up his flag, some n***a got mad
And went to the crib for the forty-four mag, returned to the set-up and let my cousin have it
That n***a that died for the Garden Blocc gang, did time for the Garden Blocc
And ended up stuck in a muthafuckin' casket, but I don't be givin' a fuck
I'm tappin' up in your program
Before you know it I'm creepin' up on you in a licorice dark, black, drop-top Brougham
With a twelve gauge pump in the trunk and a clip full of funk
And a fat Purple Kush blunt, so call it what you want
I call it the fever of the funk house, dumpin' gauge shells in that ass
Leavin' you face down, chest down with a gang of guts hangin' out your ass
N***a you know the process, they wanna kill me now
I'm a dead man walkin' to my funeral, can you feel me now?
And if I die before your set gets blasted
That's on the Gardens I'm gon' rise up out my casket
[Chorus]
I'm liquor sick and I just might lose control
So load your clips, locs, 'cause we ridin' for my folks
I'm liquor sick and I just might lose control
So load your clips, locs, 'cause we ridin' for my folks

[Verse 2]
And I'm out in six-five hardtop Impala lookin for that one eight seven
There he go and I'm right behind him bustin' with my MAC-11
Straight bumper-to-bumper twelve gauge pumpin' was that Lil X Loccsta
Givin' up his set and dumpin' on n***as just like he's supposed to
N***a this is real deal shit
It's not about Crip or Blood, it's about payback
That family love, so n***a now fuck your whole clique
Like 24 Deep they tryin' to kill me for my fuckin' tapes
Them baby rapes, so n***a get out my fuckin' face
If I was really bangin' n***as would know, 'cause I'd have they whole set
Lookin' like L.A. when the earthquake hit, n***a, fuckin' with my Tec
I'm from the Garden Blocc, no matter what nobody say
I'm makin' my money, not lettin' that bangin' shit get in my way
N***as get mad, they wanna see the Lynch rippin'
I'm wearing blue, yeah, but motherfucker I ain't even trippin'
But for my cousin Q-Ball, Mr. Doc and Sicx
My cousin Eklypss and two of my kids, n***a, catch these clips

[Chorus]
I'm liquor sick and I just might lose control
So load your clips, locs, 'cause we ridin' for my folks
I'm liquor sick and I just might lose control
So load your clips, locs, 'cause we ridin' for my folks
[Outro]
There ain't no fuckin' way
My cousin's gonna lay up in a casket with no retaliation
There ain't no fuckin' way
That motherfucker died for the Blocc, so lets heat them motherfucking Glocks
There ain't no fuckin' way
My cousin's gonna lay up in a casket with no retaliation
There ain't no fuckin' way
That motherfucker died for the Blocc, so lets heat them motherfucking Glocks