Chorus: Lil' E & Tre-8] [Lil' E] I get 'em rowdy, get rowdy, I get 'em rowdy, get rowdy, I get 'em rowdy, what? [Tre-8] I get 'em wild, they wild, I
[Tre-8] If I was to see you at the red light walkin', strugglin', stuck the fuck out, I'd blow the horn, turn the radio up and peel the fuck out, Leave
niggas, it's that wicked Westbank puttin' it down again, Worldwide status, you know how we do it, Off top baby, it's a street thing [Chorus: Tre-8]
hands up high, hands up high) (Here we go!) [Verse 1 -50 Cent You wanna dance, let's dance nigga I'll take you to the prom I'm armed, tre pound in my
Hook Verse Three: Ice Cube If you're foul, you better run a make on that license plate You coulda had a V8 Instead of a tre-eight slug to the
Motherfucker, you’d better break yourself... [ice cube] My skin is my sin, look at my complexion Section 8, erection great Balls like ru paul and a big
gun Blow out ya lungs Like them old I-Tal-Ians, Mafia, devil son When you see me coming, better run for fucking cover bum (BLITE!) AK, SK, .44, Tre-8
(Xzibit talking) Come here Tre, what's up son, come on To whom it may concern, yeah, listen Sorry I'm away so much, yeah, yeah All the sons, daughters
, the shooters got Berettas in their hand This is Mafia, veterans'll plan Word to the tape on the brick, this is raw I'm in the 4x4, 8 plus 8 in the clip
19's gone be turnin got the wood sternin, Joe in the back got the chronic and its burnin, smokin chronic leaf optimo Big Poyo, sippin on the 8 I done
8-ball, ready to brawl All for one, all for Pillage, run y'all across stage Come in your state, bust down your gate Throw spit like a tre'-8, Ghostface
and round my bed The shadow stops, points a glock to my fuckin' head I grab my pillow,crack the back window Pull out the tre-8, bust three times at
snaps Adapts to any environment that I'm located at If you see me on the solo move, best believe that I'm strapped 44, .tre-8 or AK-47 'Cos slowly but
it's kill a nigga night Ain't no tellin' when triple 6 gets to shootin' up Movin' up your death date, with a tre-8 special It's way too late to wrestle
on the dice game, A hand full of 10's and a pocket full of cocaine, But my dimes too small, so im'a grab my 8ball And go for the dice brall, A young
back of his neck left And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre Wit the windows up, must have
charge Flat TVs and some tiles for my momma car Eighty-thousand dollars, I'mma fuckin' ghetto superstar Work come soft, never hard, that's a different charge Tre-8
8ways we represent it all my noggins is demented Better watch them cars that's tinted you don't want to be up in it Swish this tre like Hardaway send