"Recipe"  Parental Advisory genre: West Coast
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	The get rich quick scheme
	CD: Straight Laced Credits: Produced by GLS w/Life'z Game Productions, Lyrics by Point Blankk featuring Young Kyoz
	Lyrics Young Drew: Living life day by day, spent the 1-50, and the only utensils I need is a plate, sandwich baggies and a razor blade. I’m a “D” boy, so the Po-Po’s send decoys, but I ain’t going out like Leroy so I stay on the Do-Lo put two in your chulo. I got the plug with the amigo, J G Z coped three kilo, Salad bowl hotter them jalapenos, during indictment season shit C shady like El Nino. And we selling Peruvian, puffing hallucinogens, trying to go from illegal distribution to sunny days. Revitalized, like I absorbed UV rays, and as I stack my cash I take another puff of the “J”. Bitch niggas that hate, bullet crack your chest plate, by the time the one times get there it’ll “C” to late, and you’ll go straight to the morgue or the ICU, And if you snitch ain’t no telling what agent gonna crack your melon. I roll with multiple stripe felons, and silence is violence nigga who you telling. Kyoz: I got the recipe nigga for the perfect agent 187 you ‘bout to die tonight (repeat three times) Chorus: I got the recipe nigga, some come and get it My nigga’s out here trying to get paid in a major way, so let’s get rich and will kick it (repeats four times) Kyoz: Hit them with the tech and watch them die nigga. I’m down to ride nigga, For what nigga? For the North side. It’s on and running when I’m gunning, label me assassin, blue flagging, strapped down with the 44magnum. Bitch niggas get their ass kicked, shit gets draxtic, niggas get blasted. Smashing, lay a motherfucker face down, with the 50 round-clip straight up North side gansta’s dip when I put one in your hip. Cuz you can’t fuck with this. Packing my four fifth your throat slit we straght dipped. I hit him in the neck,I hit him in the chest. I hit him in the hip, you cannot handle this Bringing pain to your brain, I can’t even have it man. Chorus Keylocc: As the paper getting plot thickens. Trying to get from a quarter zip to a quarter chicken. Gotta get bread on why these off brands trying to catch me slipping. Salinas gangsta Cripin’. Ain’t no switching loc niggas trip pop in the clip and leave they hood and pistol smoked. It ain’t no joke, nigga better have your heat close, ‘cuz most these niggas up on my block will turn your body to a ghost. So if it’s really let me know, ‘cuz I’m trying to get bricks for the right chips, with the 44 strapped up on my hip. Trying to make a nigga do a back flip, but nigga this ain’t gymnastics, just a perfect example of how the situation got tragic. Trying to get my cabbage, and chedda’ cheese, niggas hit me up I hit em cack with E-S-C. Chorus

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