Tri-State big gates, come on. Real hot, Ride Out, come on. Thin-C (Uh), Thick-C, Dirty Red, Ken Dawg. Come on.
-Thin C-
From Ohio to Michigan, Indiana and all/ Tri-State big gate bruds love to ball/ Its a gang of thug niggas all down to brawl/ Hit the block, pay the chops for my records to call/ All our honeys to the spot, where T N Tee hang out/ Blowin through your whole city, erasin beef, no doubt/ Got the sticky for the Philly packed tight with a boom/ Blowin clouds, gettin choked by the smoke in the room/ Lyrically potent compositions justify my mission/ Ya I ride for Corleon, when in bad positions/ Drank the last of my Hennessy before it blurs my vision/ I go at a jealous nigga, I swing, I ain't missin/ You catch a lot that I'm dishin/ Gettin fixed with staples and stitches/ I get the money for pimpin, caught up in lavish livin/ Cristal in my kitchen with hot buckets of Crown for my plyers to grab/ While I kick it and laugh...
-Thin C-Chorus-
Tri-State, Tri-State,Tri-State big gate bruds love to ball/ Tri-State, Tri-State,Tri-State big gate thugs love to brawl/ Tri-State, Tri-State,Tri-State big gate bruds love to ball/ Tri-State, Tri-State,Tri-State big gate thugs love to brawl
-Thick C-
I'm screamin "(Ahhh) Tri-State Big Gate, northcoast my state"/ Push weight from Cleveland through Akron, Canton, Youngstown, Toledo/ Hittin like a Russian Torpedo, El Nino/ My time is up, this amigo/ Bank account, full of nothin but zero's/ Freaky style like Menensly Rio/ In my gato, I'm a hero/ Rollin like a ghetto tank, a big gate/ Stayin piped tight (Tight) cause it keeps my money right (Keeps my money right)/ Stack ends fuck fuck (Fuck) friends/ Now I'm rollin in a Benz, grabbin on my glot/ Smokin on my pot, fallin in Versacie/ Just dropped another key Twenty Five, Fifty/ Feds comin (Feds comin) to get me! (If you wanna see me)/ A big gate, a tri-state, a tri-state, a big gate/ Tri-state uh!
-Chorus-
-Dirty Red-
(Keep it comin) I'm from a city where we chilla chop on blades daily/ I'm bout that money baby, hand me mine nigga pay me/ Cause we got killas, dealas, felons in these cold streets, Tha Land a cold place/ So I gotta hold heat/ I roll deep, Swisha Sweets, butta leatha seats/ We keep it pimpin round these parts, damn a trick-or-treat/ I'm from The Wood, a small hood around The Clair/ Its all love, you want war? Than we'll take you there/ It ain't no palm trees, see we just some OG's/ Just niggas gettin cheese, twistin on some Caddy keys/ We get it overseas, pot around, sticky trees/ And keep a heata fo these hatas and these enemies
-Ken Dawg-
I'm from a city of hustlas (Hustlas) and pistol tuckas/ Yall don't know much about us, thumpin, we bring the rukus/ And all my niggas up north, we love to open doors (Doors)/ Follow trends of what they see in them videos/ Naw, my niggas really live this life for real (For real)/ Chef boy and the wife, with that whip appeal/ Livin in the Tri-State, a good place to be/ I done played on Windy, and I love the D/ I'm from Cleveland, the Cleveland niggas, grimy gutta/ You find me amongst anotha grubbly, bubbly/ I guess its just a MidWest lingo/ I've just been what I know, and I'm keepin it pimp, what
-Chorus-
Recorded for the Thick and Thin C album Freedom Ain't Free