[Intro: D.J. Streek]
Well alright y'all, yeah, it's nineteen-ninety motherfucking two
Cyco in the motherfucking house, Insane Poetry definitely running shit in this motherfucker. I got the lyrical pimp EmDee. I got D.J. Streek, The Crossfade Beast, what's up n***a? Yeah, let's do it like this. Yo Cyco, jump on that shit

[Verse 1: Cyco]
Stepping with the weapon kept inside of my windbreaker
The lyrical strangler with six in the chamber
I'm no stranger to the scenery of the streets
Gangbangers is running the streets and rolling deep
Creeping on suckers that's slipping in the wrong set
Watch your back, you bеtter watch it when you step
N***as is jacking othеr n***as for causing things
Parties are interrupted by other brothers throwing swings
Cops ain't giving a fuck, they just rolling up
Out they cars with rod pumps, sweating chumps
Basically I'm living the life of a survivalist
Listen through the lyric
If I were you, I would just watch your back
I ain't the one to advocate to carry a gun, son
But why get caught slipping?
I don't know what's worse, the cops or the gangbangers
Yeah, I'm keeping six in the chamber

[Chorus 1: D.J. Streek & Cyco]
Ah, yeah, what's up baby?
That's the motherfucking Cyco writing that shit for ya
Six in the chamber, haha
EmDee lyrical pimp in the motherfucking house
Yeah, I'm keeping six in the chamber, haha, yeah
D.J. Streek, you know the Crossfade Beast motherfucker
Six in the chamber
And we gonna do it like this, you better keep that (yeah) shit copped
Aye yo, Cyco run that second verse
[Verse 2: Cyco]
At a party on a Saturday night cooling
Streek, Mike, and me, true sipping brew
Listening to dope music, maxing while the party hoops
Everybody's straight bouncing with a .40 ounce
Then a whole bunch of suckers rushed the gate
They was in a mob talkin' 'bout they wanted this guap
I gotta push by a whole damn gang of 'em
Got in my stance and started swinging with 'em
I started smiling, I backpedalled, showed 'em the black metal
Sparks started coming out the end of a barrel, huh
I pull the trigger with ease
With just a squeeze, brains started plopping into the grass like cottage cheese
The rest broke with the quickness
The cops swooped on in with the quickness
But yo, who did it?
The boys in blue didn't have a clue
I put the gat at the bottom of my shoe
And left limping like I was hurt by one of 'em
The cops beat the sucker who had a gun on him
One time, swear that every n***a on site
In my face bit the light of a flashlight
Next thing, they frisk me
They couldn't find nothing on me yo, but it's risky
To carry on your personal concealed weapon
In certain neighborhoods, that's how you better be stepping
To me, stopping the violence is more than logical
But you could still find yourself in a hospital (Yeah)
I'm telling you that I'm throwing up my middle finger
Fuck that shit homies, I'm keeping six in the chamber
[Chorus 2: D.J. Streek & Cyco]
Yeah, haha, well alright y'all
Yeah, I'm keeping six in the chamber
That's right baby, haha, six in the motherfucking chamber
Yeah, six in the chamber
Insane Poetry in the motherfucking house
You're goddamn right, I'm keeping six in the chamber
What's up n***a?
Yeah, why would you step to a gat bust over a cop?
Break it down

[Interlude: D.J. Streek & Evil One]
Yo Evil, look at this fool over here, let's go get this sucker
Yeah
Get yo ass out the car n***a
Get yo ass out that motherfucker now!
Punk bitch, get out

[Verse 3: Insane Poetry]
Incident number three happened just last night
My homie got jacked at the stop light
Dumb n***a shoulda known to keep the chrome cocked
Right up on his own block the fool n***a got got
And he was lucky he didn't get popped
He just stood while them n***as took his shit, hops
Looking pissed off, but feeling good he was still alive
Never in his life did he think somebody steal his ride
For jack moves that proves to keep your shit loaded
To bust a fool 'cause I don't trust no fool
'Cause when I pull my tool you better run Locc
'Cause I love the smell of sulfur from gun smoke
'Cause a n***a like me likes to toss suckers
With the umbrella and khakis all cross-colors
You better take caution stepping to a stranger
'Cause he might keep six in the chamber