Yeah nigga, MC Ren up in this motherfucker
(West West yall)
Yeah, L.A. niggaz
L.A. niggaz rule the world nigga
Yall niggaz gotta recognize, yaknahmsayin?
Niggaz dont wanna peep game, yaknahmsayin?
But this shit come all the way back around here
My nigga Dre, droppin heat box on yall bitch-ass
Yaknahmsayin? You gotta recognize
L.A. niggaz, connected all over the motherfuckin world, nigga
Recognize this
Now in my younger days I used to sport a rag
Backpack full of cans plus a four-four mag
Gd from the feet up
Blued up from the Zoo, a pi grew up
Locn, smokin and drinkin til we threw up (threw up)
At ?? Park, taggin, hittin fools up
Ditchin my class, just to fuck yo school up
You dont wanna blast, nigga tuck yo tool up
But dont sleep, yall niggaz quick to shoot you
Now theres another motherfucker with no future
But Time Bomb much smoother when I manuever, dope like Cuba
Got em jumpin
Im comin "Straight Outta Compton" with a loose cannon
Smoke big green, call it Bruce Banner
Watch your manners, at last another blast from the top notch
From way back with the pop rocks, I pop lock witcha
Picture this, Dr. Dre twistin wit Tha Liks
and Hittman bought a fix
Dont trip, its a Time Bomb in this bitch
Here it tick tick tick tick (BOOM)
Wait a minute its on, I tell it like a true mackadelic
Weed and cocaine sold seperate, check it
From sundown to sunup -- clown done run up
The Aftermathll be two in your gut, nigga what?
We roll deep, smoke on weed drink and back heat
Requirements for survival each day -- in L.A.!
It dont stop, we still mash in hot pursuit from the cops
Analyze why we act this way -- in L.A.!
Gimme that mic fool, its a West coast jack move
They call me Hitt - cause I spit like gats do
cock me back
Bust caps for my max crew, at Fairfax
who used to wear Air Max shoes, thats true
But I grew up where niggaz jack you, harass you
Blast you, for that set you claim (where you from?)
Mash on you for your turkish chain, C.K. B.K.
Blued up or flame, I ran wit a gang
I helped niggaz get, jacked for they Dana Danes
My pants hang below my waistline
I look humble wanna rumble? (yeah yeah)
I bang though, like Vince Carter from the baseline
dont waste my time
Fuck a scrap in killa Cali, AKs and 9s
One-times, sunshines, and fine-ass bitches
Hawaiian thai, drive-by, six-fos on switches
I was raised in the hood called WHAT-THE-DIF
Where the brothers in the hood, refused to go Hollywood
Slugs for the fuck of it
Anybody hatin on us can suck a dick
If I catch you touchin mine you catch a flatline, dead on the floor
Better than yours, drivin away gettin head from a whore
Its AvireX-to-the-Z
Fuckin with me might get you banned from TV,
cassette and CD its all mine the whole nine the right time
Multiply, we dont die, the streets dont lie
What, so neither do I, Im bad for your health
like puttin a pistol up to your face and blastin yourself
Five in the mornin, burglars at my do
Glock forty-five in my dresser drawer
Let em come in BLAOW he see the thunder roll
Roll with niggaz, who by fifths by the fo
and bruise by the case
SLAP YOU in the face with the bass, Dr. Dre laced
Likwit Kings wit Sedans and gold rings
Haters fold the style, but cant find no openings
In L.A.
Thats how we ride
|
