BROWNSIDE

Ese Tokes, Wicked & Trouble back again with that real "G" shit. It's been a while since the last time we hit you bald head fools with that gangbangin sound -- the shit that makes you wanna get your bang on after you listen to it. First off, let me put a few rumors to rest. Those of you who know anything about The Brownside clica know that back in 1997 I lost a murder trial and I was hit with a life sentence. But what you didn't know is that money talks and bullshit walks. Hell, yeah, I paid an arm and a leg and my bad ass attorney got that shit over turned. I hit the streets again 2003, still up to the same old thing I get my bang on, sell dope and hit the pussy nonstop, ha ha ha.
When I was on the street, me and my two G's, Wicked-The Santero a.k.a. The Pandillero and that bald head nut Trouble from that Southside T.B.Z. gang started recording again to put some "G" shit together for all you real Sur 13 gangsters. All we spit is real shit - shit we know - shit we do - and shit we been through. Like I said, we're back again putting it down for all my bald head pandilleros on the streets who's keepin' it real and all the homies doing time in the pen, tambien.
I wanna say 'what's up' to all the homies doing life, ese. I was there. I know what's crackin'. Keep your heads up and stay strong til the wheels fall off. Ese Tokes wants to say Q-vo to all the crazy ass Eastside, Southside, Westside and Xorthside (northside in Los Angeles only), to all the gangbangers in Southern California and all those mothafuckers who's got the big the cocaine sack and are getting their slang on. Keep putting it down ese and stay away from them punk ass fools that act like bitches cause they will get you caught up.
I wanna say 'what's up' to all them fine ass females with big tits and big asses - the ones that be at the clubs shaking that fat juicy ass. You know what -- fuck it - I wanna say 'what's up' to the fat ones too - they need lovin' tambien, que no? ha ha ha.
Like I said before, this is The Brownside clica kickin' up gangster shit for all my Southern California camaradas. Don't confuse us with these fake ass fools that don't know what the fuck they're talking about - the ones that ask their homies what it feels when you blast somebody and then they run home and write a song about it. Yeah, they know who the fuck they are.
Orale pues, you G's take care and stay up. Much love to all my brown gente.



-Ese Toker



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