Artist: Southside Playaz f/ Big Pokey, Chris Ward, H.A.W.K.
Album:  Street Game
Song:   6 Keys
Typed by: Lil Hustle

[Chorus]
Six keys on the street, packing my heat
Can't get beat, staying on feet
In the kitchen, cooking up another nine
Man hold up, a young player staying down

[H.A.W.K.]
See I'm on the Interstate, six compressed cakes
Uncut weight, Peruvian flakes
And I'm setting up shop, in yo town
This Dead End nigga, bout to tie the block down
Release the bloodhounds, call the laws if you wanna
There's one of my workers, on every fucking corner
Slip you's a goner, end of the story
Punishing suckers, invading my territory

[Mike D]
No nuts no glory, is you all about your cheese
Breaking down keys, and whipping up O-Z's
Coming out with extra gram-as, cut with Arm & Hammer
This dope cooked here, will have you screaming god damn-a
I work's my wand, like the damn thong song
If I bomb my palms, I'll get the mill and then some
Keep it coming, use this rap for money laundering
Stang my tail, from Louisiana down to London
Six keys on the street, me and my niggaz gon' eat
When you cheat feel the heat, cause we can't be beat

[Clay-Doe]
Six keys on our ass fall, P.D.'s getting they ass bought
Or getting they funky ass taught, don't fuck with my cash vault
Stash house working the country, when shit get funky
I ain't got that fucking monkey, trying to switch up my money
Proceed to grind, peeling out breaking it down
Get some quarters from the Cold War, and start making my rounds
Halves and nines, that's all good
But your ass ain't get no bricks, unless your ass is all hood
Six keys five phones, three two one now I'm done
Chop my fetty up and re-up, as soon as I see the sun

(*talking*)
What's happening, send six more baby
Bet that...

[Chorus - 2x]

[Big Pokey]
Give me a three beam scale, just to balance the brick
Keep my game face on, when I'm handling a lick
Move and stick, especially when you moving quick
Them just the rules of the game, that you don't forget
V-12 and ball, plus a appetite like jaws
Got me fucking off in the mall, and I'm unloading the U-Haul
Plus my paper done got taller, much higher than it use to
Nigga hands done got dirty, from fucking round with them roosters

[Chris Ward]
I got six keys, being sold in large amounts
Some by the ounce, cause every dollar counts
Quietly unannounced, I move my weight
From state to state, whipped white into straight
At a constant pay rate, I collect my funds
Getting money by the tons, strapped with guns
I'm one of the ones, that got more cheese than Chester
To do bidness with me, you gotta be an investor

[Mr. 3-2]
Set up shop with six blocks, and they hot but I lay low
Undercover in the hood, when I'm crawling with the sco'
Niggaz come niggaz go, but I deal with the same people
Broke incisions, and you hitting for the root of all evil
My city is manifested, they taping and taking pictures
Slipping and off your note, can vote to get ya
For everything you own, especially when you outta town
State to state paper plates, nigga just stay down

[Chorus - 2x]

Six keys on the street, packing my heat
Can't get beat, staying on feet
In the kitchen, cooking up another nine...