• Lyrics: play full screen play karaoke
• You Don't Work, U Don't Eat (featuring Ice Cube, MC Eiht & Jay Dee) - W.C.
• Worldwide Gunnin' - W.C.
• Wet Dream - W.C.
• West Up! (featuring Mack 10 & Ice Cube) - W.C.
• Wanna Ride (featuring Ice Cube & MC Ren) - W.C.
• Walk (featuring Ice Cube & Mack 10) - W.C.
• The Streets - W.C.
• The Shadiest One - W.C.
• THE ONE - W.C.
• The Autobiography - W.C.
• Shadiest One (featuring CJ Mac) - W.C.
• Put On Tha Set - W.C.
• Out On A Furlough - W.C.
• Let's Make A Deal (featuring Gangsta & Lina) - W.C.
• Kill A Habit - W.C.
• Just Clownin' - W.C.
• It's All Bad - W.C.
• Intro - W.C.
• In A Twist (featuring Coolio) - W.C.
• Keep Hustlin' - W.C.
• Fuckin' Wit The House Party - W.C.
• Hog - W.C.
• Ghetto Serenade - W.C.
• Get Up On That Funk - W.C.
• Fuckin' Wit Uh House Party - W.C.
• Flirt (featuring Case) - W.C.
• Feel Me - W.C.
• Dress Code - W.C.
• Creator - W.C.
• Cheddar - W.C.
• Can't Hold Back - W.C.
• Call It What You Want - W.C.
• Fuck My Daddy - W.C.
• Bellin (featuring Kokane) - W.C.
• Ain't A Damn Thing Changed - W.C.
• Taking Ova - W.C.
• Shadiest One - W.C.
• In A Twist - W.C.
• That's What I'm Talking About - W.C.
• You Don't Work, U Don't Eat - W.C.
• Whip Yo Ass - W.C.
• West Up! - W.C.
• Walk - W.C.
• U Know Me - W.C.
• This Is Los Angeles - W.C.
• Homesick - W.C.
• Granny Nuttin' Up - W.C.
• Better Days - W.C.
• When The Guns Come Out - W.C.
• Wanna Ride - W.C.
• Walk With Me - W.C.
• Throw Ya Hood Up - W.C.
• The Streets (Remix) - W.C.
• The Streets (Featuring Nate Dogg) - W.C.
• Survival Of The Fittest (Featuring Dre'sta & Young Shane) - W.C.
• Survival Of The Fittest - W.C.
• Slow Motion - W.C.
• Quick Way Out - W.C.
• Paper Trippin' (Featuring Nate Dogg) - W.C.
• Paper Trippin' - W.C.
• It's On - W.C.
• Flirt - W.C.
• Dot & The Reverend William Black) - W.C.
• Can't Hold Back (Featuring Ice Cube) - W.C.
• Better Days (Featuring Ron Banks) - W.C.
• Bellin - W.C.
• Bang Loose - W.C.
• Let's Make A Deal - W.C.
• The Streets (Remix) (Featuring Nate Dogg, Snoop Dogg & Xzibit) - W.C.
• Whip Yo Ass (Feat. Nelly) - W.C.

'This afternoon we want to talk about'
'Now I want you brothers to dig where we coming from'
[WC]
Five yers ago when I was in high school
No bills to pay, I used to say to myself 'Life is cool'
I had a roof over my head and a part-time job
Slanging at OB's birdstand
Washington High was the school I attended
Til '87 graduation came and I wasn't with it
Kicked out the house at the age of 18
No money for college, mmm, how should I handle things?
I tried to go the so-called right way
And went to a JC but I wasn't getting paid
I'm working at a chicken stand now with the chicken
With a spring at the top of my hat getting clowned
I gotta pay my rent but my job ain't cutting it
So now I'm drinking gin saying 'Here's my alternative'
To either keep doing what I'm doing, don't trip
Or go and buy gats y'all and come up on a grip
So like anybody else I went and bought a gun
Pulling burgs at night and now I'm counting my funds
Three times a day and I drive a coup on danas
Cruising through the alley bumping on 'Hi' to players
Yo, you can say what you want but I was taught on the streets
That if a brother didn't work, then he didn't eat
'You don't work, you can't eat'
[Coolio]
Peep this, something kind if for weakness
Focus on the park and watch how I freak this
Subject for survival, got to stay alive
I gotta eat so I do or die
Not a full-time crook but I was born right
So if I want to eat, sometimes I got to jack
So jack I will and go get some presidents
A foot in the ground and the other on an oil slick
Money ain't everything but either is brokeness
Give me a knife cause I can't live off happiness
Once a brother said I can't work for the white kind
Standing on the corner in a soup line
Said he's too black, too strong, ain't done nothing yet
Waiting on the fifth for his government relief check
Humming and bumming, most hate to see him coming
And every first and 15th, these strongs on his life
But a hustle is a hustle and a meal is a meal
That's why I'm real and I ain't afraid to steal
Straight from the street, backed up by a funky beat
If you don't work, OG, then you don't eat
'You don't work, you can't eat' (Repeat 2x)
[Ice Cube]
Ayo, I want y'all to meet a nigga from the Lench Mob
He gaffled for his meals (McDonald's is my spot)
Ayo Jay Dee, kick some shit for the Maad Circle, G
[Jay Dee]
If you don't work, you don't eat, need I say more?
Cause I'm a kick my rhymes in abundant while you stay poor
Since I was 14 I raised myself
I built a roof over my head and then I went for self
I sold cooked-up rock, made my way through school
I'm not saying you should do it cause it ain't too cool
Kicking ???, playing to start your back
Talking about that bullshit prize, you slay me right?
And you other motherfuckers out here banging for change
Need to wise up and seek personal gain
Or maintain some type of pain
Cause they don't give away hot lunches out here in L.A.
Yo peace to the Dub and the Maad Circle
For giving me the chance to let the rhyme just flow
So you can (So you can either sell dope or get your ass a job)
Jay Dee (I'd rather roll with the Lench Mob)
'You don't work, you can't eat'
[MC Eiht]
Eiht is stepping from the city down under
And I'm robbing more punk fools blind like Stevie Wonder
Ain't no punching a clock, I ain't with it
For a quarter an hour I make the shit every minute
And please, don't even let me catch a brother slipping
He'll be short, shorter than short
With my hands around his troat
Fool, come off the chain and bracelet
I know it's wrong but face it
A brother like me won't win the lottery
Ain't no faking when it's time to bring home the bacon
Cause I was taught get what you're gonna get quick
And don't get gaffled in the mix
So I guess I'll keep stacking, breaking the law
Checking a fool, wrecking and breaking his jaw
Gyeah, that's life in the Compton streets
Homeboy you don't work, homeboy you don't eat
'You don't work, you can't eat'
[WC]
This record was put together by Jay Dee, Coolio, and the W
Eight, Chilly Chill, and DJ Crazy Toons
Sic brothers out to get paid cause
Nowadays you got to go for yourself or go broke
I'm living day by day cause you see the future ain't promised
So save that drama for your mama
And make sure you're out of my path when I'm on the creep tip
Or have your first name changed to R.I.P.
'You don't work, you can't eat' (Repeat 2x)

I can't take it no more
Fuck you niggas
Fuck you bitches
Fuck this rap shit
Nigga don't ask me for shit
I'm sick of all the cameras
Fuck all you scavengers
Punk ass record labels
Scandalous ass managers
I'll take this microphone and slam it
Bitch I ain't no rapper, hoe I'm the hoodsta wit the talent
Shaddy ass fuck I'll take that ass for the scrilla
Stab you in the neck wit a rusty pair of scissors
Tie your kids to your ankels, watch you sweat and quiver
Fuck you in the ass wit a coat hanger nigga
Wit no ?compression? for you groupies at all
I'll bite yo' nipples off and throw you in a tub of rubbin alcohol
Fuck all ya'll
My mado for 98
I'm lettin niggas have it
Makin the finest bitches toss my salad
Salty nutts is all I'm givin
All heel the shadiest one that nigga Dub has arisen
Chorus:
Every world wide gunnin
Put yo' Zigs in air
When it comes to janky shit we runnin'
Hold that shit
Light that shit
Smoke it,
When it comes to puttin this ruggish shit down yo' I'm the locest
And to the bitches
Skinny bitches
Fat bithces
Big bitches thinkin ya'll could get wit this 9 inches
Outlastin me you must be jokin
Hoe I'll leave you on the floor bleedin wit yo pussy busted open
4 play's for suckers (spits loogy)
I'll spit a loogy in your pussy fuck you wit this dirty rubber
Ass cheaks get smacked, clapped, waxed and smacked
Fuck a bed I'm leavin carpet burns all on your back
You ain't ready for a pro you still a rookie
Bitch, me fuckin you is like stickin razor blades in your pussy
Big bitches I'm tackelin and dick stabbin I'm serious
I'm even runnin red lights diggin you on your period
Fuck a ?nigga? I'm talkin Motel 6
A tall can and a big black ashy dick
Let them other niggas treat you feed you take you home
I just wanna get a pee on and get up and I'm gone
Chorus: (2x)
Run niggas run
Niggas better strap up and pack up or get slapped 'cause here I come (who)
The pussy banger dice slanger still janky
Jumpin out the Coupe wit a hand full of bloody fangers
And this bitch I'm strangelin
Heaters I'm swangin the barrel jumpin off
H double O D S T A claimin and ya'll know I'm famous
To all you bitch politicians what's crackin?
I'll greet you all wit that duce finger thumb action
To all my enemies who wanna get close to me, choke me smoke me
I'll pray to the Lord you all eat shit and die slowly
You niggas can't fade me face it my shit bangs
When it comes to puttin this gangsta shit I comes to reign
Fuck this industry I run wit Tune's and CJ
'cause 99.9% of you niggas is straight gay
One night here comes the hoodsta back up
And I clowns puttin the gunanunna runninunrunnin these niggas down
Chorus: (2x)
Uh, that's right
Fuck all ya'll
Bitch
Ya'll still can't fade it
WC (muthafucka)

Snorin like a motherfucker, stretched on the couch
Slobbin on my pillow and I'm droolin at the mouth
And now I'm havin dreams cause I'm in a deep sleep
But +I+ ain't +Dream About+ no motherfucker named +Jeannie+
Shit was intense, it had me sweatin like crack
Sorta like a horror flick for every motherfucker who dissed the black
People was gettin done, we had em on the run
Killin em all, one by one
Cause niggaz in the hood was finally gettin together
No more set trippin, with cappin each other
Brother to brother, hand in hand
Thirty thousand motherfuckers deep, ready for action and
All you seen was niggaz and knick-kickers
Bailin on this mission, hesta coalition
Checkin through the vicinity, for enemies
And if we find any they gon' get treated like Reginald Denny
Oooh, the shit was cooler than a motherfucker
Never thought the day'd come when I could wear the other color
Without gettin hit up, sweated or shot on the scene
Sparked up, it had to be a dream
But anyway, back to the - story
That I'm, tossin - listen up when black folks are talkin
Niggaz was in the streets runnin wild
And tied to this car it was Officer Colonel Colin Powell
And bein that bitch-made's was the first to go
Pete Wilson was on the side stripped out his clothes
Tied to the back of a six-fo'
And it was draggin his ass up and down El Segundo
Uhh, now whassup nigga with the shit that you was poppin
You ain't bannin shit, motherfucker!
Then told Colonel Powell to turn his ass over, and from the back
they placed both of they hands down on his shoulder
Surrounded by a gang of niggaz he screamed loud
"I'm sorry for bombin Iraq!" but they still fucked him doggystyle
And that's when my dream started gettin good
My dick was rising and rising ready to break wood
Cause now we lookin for the residence
Thirty thousand gang members on our way to Washington
And the National Guard couldn't fuck with us
Cause in my dream we had guns blowin up the helicopters
Bailed in the White House, deep
Caught you-know-who in his motherfuckin sleep
You comin back with us to South Central that's what we told him
Before we stuffed him in the back of the low-low
Got to the hood, now it'ssssON!
Now it's time for him to pay the piper, for doin us wrong
Cause now the tables was turned and on the top we stood
Robbin motherfuckers for they manhood
And even the old folks was down, fuck em up, hang em high
Is what they screamed out the crowd
And that's when I heard a gunshot
And his body fell back and his brains went SPLAT
Now here's where I finally woke up
Sittin in a puddle full of nut
Heard a loud siren then I ran to the front
Hopin ain't nobody I know; they got the fuckin yellow tape up
Damn, they laid my homey in the street
Another victim of gang violence, created by the beast
And to think just a minute ago
Yo I was dreamin this bullshit ceased, we killed the real devil
But I guess it was just my, imagination
That one day we can all live as one
Man fuck it, no matter how real it all seemed yo
The shit was only a wet dream..

Intro: WC
Wessyde-fa-life-in-ya!!
('Throwin up the W' -- Ice Cube) 2X
Yeah, I'm with this, what we throwin up?
('Throwin up the W' -- Ice Cube)
All you busta ass niggaz out there
I got my motherfuckin homeboys in the house ('Throwin up the W')
My nigga Ice Cube ('Throwin up the W'), Mack 10
Back to set the record straight for all these busta ass niggaz
who trip, this how we do it nigga
Chorus: WC
Front back side to side
We be givin it up, till the day we die
Niggaz hit me up, I'ma have ta erupt
So motherfucker West Up!
(repeat 2X)
Verse One: WC
Nigga clear the lane, here I come, once again
With this, gangsta click, droppin this, gangsta shit
Strictly for the riders who ride us I gotta WestSider
rhymer for them niggaz that's sittin on them Dayton wires
Pump the bass, hit the switch
Cause Ice Cube, Mack 10, and Dub-C, back up in this b-i-itch
Straight hoodsta for life, ain't no lookin back
Ink in my flesh, WestSide tattered on my chest
Walkin with the shadow of death
Through the land of the skanless, South Central Los Angeles
Home of the Crips and the Bloods
Where even the strongest niggaz is drug through the mud
And visitors from outta town best to stay in Hollywood
You get that tourist ass ganked strollin through my hood
West coast till the casket drop
I be throwin it up, so motherfucker West Up!
Verse Two: Mack 10
It's gun ho Mack one-oh please you can't fuck wit deez
Ice Cubez and Dub-Ceez is my G'z
And hip-hop, top three niggaz the new bosses
Never slippin cause we flosses, packin Nina Rosses
Nigga, thought you knew how we do it
Ain't a Damn Thing Changed, always on them thangs
forever and a day, so back up, gimme room, don't neglect
Just respect and everything I can't check I wreck
Now you can cross out the bustas and snitches
Shit only killers hootchie bitches and hot hydraulic switches allowed
On the turf where the real hogs dwell
Sewed up the hood, the fattest bolas on the block for sale
Inglewood City, the throne I call home
Niggaz be so bright, you might need your locs on
to bail through, it's fin you're in with Mack 10
And I gotta confess up, nigga this West Up! for life
Chorus
Verse Three: Ice Cube
Now I got ta show you how the West coast rocks
No razor blades, in my mouth, just a glock
And I'm hittin you up, with that W-S
The sun, rises in the East, but it sets in the West
No gold teeth, you gets a wreath
So hand me the goodies, stockin mask, no hoodies
Christmas day, I'm in a tre
While some of you niggaz got the robe reindeer and a sleigh
We don't call it five-oh, we call it one time
It's my life my life my life my life, in the sunshine!
One nine weighs a ton
How the fuck you think that the West was won?
Now shit can be squashed over a forty ounce of backwash
No jokes, the land of locs and hundred spokes
In the East, we can be brothers
But when you come to L.A., watch your motherfuckin colors
West Up! nigga
Chorus
Verse Four: WC
Give it up, give it up
Like the nigga James Brown, me and my niggaz are puttin it down
So bustas be wary cause see we represent the city
Where niggaz caught slippin is left with they brains drippin
City of the Angels, more like a concrete jungle
full of macks Cadillacs and crack sacks
I pledge allegiance to the shit till I die
[Mack 10] So let the five-twenty slide and put it down from the WestSide
Chorus
WestSide!!!
('Throwin up the W')

[WC]
Nigga that shit coming together like sweaty ass cheeks, nigga!
[Intro– Ice Cube]
*Keep it gangsta y'all repeated *
My niggaz thug out
You getting drugged out
These bitches getting loc'ed out
When we smoke out, cos we chromed out
About to bomb out
[Verse 1 – WC]
Here ye, here ye, calling all the hawgs
Fresh outta the whole tank, bouncin up the walls
Dub-cee! The bandana president, with the gauge on the ghetto
Rollin through y'all residents
Runnin the scene this is the king of the cars
Thugged out baby in my new busta's
Gangstas, all of them gangstas, none of them let me see up
Ridaz throw ya heaterz up
Ladies, OG'z, sorry that I've been gone
But now I'm back to get my walk on!
Swang with the game as I reach out and touch ya
Turn the cup up and get ignorant on this motherfucker
“Mayday, mayday!” back in charge
*shrilling noise* calling out cars, calling out cars
dip, skip through the lane with the bang, bang, bang, jangle
hoppin' out the SS workin' all them angles
Dub-shiest deep the scrilla, and ive got my homeboy
[Verse 2 – MC Ren]
Hell yeah, the motherfucking villain
1 to the 2 to the 3 to the +Hello+
Look at these g'z working these fake ass sopranos
Here come the Villain with another heater
With motherfucking Dub nigga in the two-seater
On my nuts while I west west y'all
Grab that microphone and I test test y'all
Villian baritone be like all over y'all
Who wanna ball with that Black nigga Ren?
Like the Don Mega I'm supreme hustling
Dub-cee! Give a fuck if these bitches don't love me
yeah!
[Chorus – Ice Cube]
I wanna bang, I wanna ride
I wanna slang, from the side, do it now
It's do or die
We can ball till the wheels fall off
And let these motherfuckers know they gotta peel us off
[Verse 3 – WC]
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
Upon em again and I'm er running em again, look at it
With da-da-da-day, with da-da-da-day
Dub rock it; let your flag hang from your back pocket
Draw on em, on em, on em can't none of em
Eat with me, eat my style but y'all can't get rid of me
I heard y'all C-Walking now, yeah who taught you?
What you could say who?
Nigga why-I-I-I-I-I oughta smack all the spit out of you!
Beat the shit out of you! Get at em dumping, stomping
Dippin in the 600, saggin in my overalls blunted
Finger and thumb it, quick run
This gangsta shit Dub-Cee runnin
Here son, steady pumping I come through punking
Y'all think y'all rollies, shooting them highstyles like Kobe
So shut up and kneel to these Westside parolees
And pass the blunt, cos none of ya'll can hold it
[Hook X2]
We got the niggaz (we got the bitches)
We got the killaz (we got the riches)
We got the dealers (we hit the switches)
We got every fucking thing you want
And we can get it punk ass nigga, if we don't
[Verse 4 – MC Ren]
Who that nigga that you fucking with?
When you want to hear some motherfucking nigger shit
Call the villain and I'll bring hot lyric
Waltonville to hit your bitch nigga ren with it
Y'all need to quit it
This shit legendary, fuck around with it and yo mama get buried
Your first born and that bitch you just married!
Who give a fuck pop that baby she just carried
Hubbin' all black like my fucking skin tone
How the fuck you gon talk about the villain, you a clone
Bitin every time you bust, who gave all y'all balls to cuss?
Weak motherfuckers better say us!
So +If it Ain't Ruff+, it ain't my shit
Might a bit mad at the bitch that ate my dick
Hate my clique, bitch-man cos I won't hit
A nigga that I ain't fucking wit!
[Hook X2]
[All]
Please Beelive it, please beelive it, please believe it
Awww man gimme one mo' sip of that cognac!

[Ice Cube]
1, 2, 3, 4
Get you a bitch up on the floor
You gotta get up and get down (WALK!)
You gotta get up and get down (WALK!)
[WC]
To the Weeeeeeest, MARCH
Bang, crease the starch
Uh oh, here we go again
Off the chain, that Dub SC gang
State yo name
[Ice Cube]
Ice Cube motherfucker
[WC]
What's your name
[Mack 10]
Mack 10 motherfucker
[WC]
Well bang on, swang on
Cause on mine I'ma G on, Dub C let a scene on
Get my green on, with my white sling on
Weather my rag in, with my khakis cuffed and dragging
Three wheels, make the heat squeal
This Westcoast shit is the shit that we built
Who wanna bust with or fuck with him, and confess
Y'all can't fuck with it, I'm out the roof with it, bang loose with it
Dub C, from that Dub SC
Fo sho to make ya peeps slang off the cheese man
[Chorus]
Walk, walk
Niggas let me see you walk
Walk, walk
Bitches let me see you walk - 2x
To the Weeeeeeest, MARCH
Calling all cars, niggas look hard
Near park cars, after dark
Get toe start
[Ice Cube]
Ice Cube motherfucker, I represent this
Don't mistake the masked up for the apprentice
All you bitch ass niggas are defenseless
Like a Catholic priest, and bout ten kids
It's sunday school, I run you fools
You ain't gone do shit
I got the flip shit, to plant
Spit it like I'm gone spit it
Niggas wanna get it, but they won't admit it
I'm connected and committed
All the way bided, while you bullshitted
I'm on exhibit, like a pitbull off the chain
Motherfuckers gone flip out, ropes get ripped out
Niggas gone trip out, crip out, get a four-fifth out
Get bout, with a brickhouse, with my dick out saying fuck ya
My whole career, I kept it gangsta and hustla
[Chorus]
[Mack 10]
It's for the ghetto and the gutter everytime I spit
For niggas that walk off that funkadelic shit
I just might go psycho, and grab the automatic
And let one off for the gangbang addicts
Cause I'm westside connected like a hand in the glove
And I'm the gangsta rap nigga that the D-Boys love
Hopped out braided and valetd in the front of the club
I hit the do' niggas speak, I hit em up with a dub
And even on the east coast, I rep Hoo Bangin
Iced out, creased khakis with a red flag hanging
Fin to bust a bitch to give head, that's eating the jaw
And if I let my hair down, all the hoes all hoes
Get ya hood, ya polo, ya tribe, ya ?
And ain't no niggas in the game that can beat this group
Mack 10 and Connect, is the hood I claim
We do the damn thang, and it's off the chain
To the Weeeeeeest, MARCH
Calling all cars, niggas look hard
Near park cars, after dark
Get toe start - 2x
[Chorus - 2x]
(*ad-libs*)

Yea, turn the music up a little bit
Yea, a little bit louder, right there
In the name of the streets
Click, click, boo ya, Dub kicked the frame in
Nigga, let the games begin, as I standin'
Tossed the tall can on a campus, off the limital
Scanners takin' penitentiary chances
Sick wit it, off the ric wit it
Blue beenie knitted, freshly acquitted
Grind, grimey, the big body an' the big body
Wit lyrics an' 'draulics hotter than the Majave
Sellin', brubble bellin', career felon
Escalade, 3 braid beer wearin'
Fuck it, I thug for free an' thug to eat
Niggas call me 'Home of Cake' 'cause I love the cheese
Gangstas, hustlas, pimps, if ya follow me
Let me see ya put them hands up like a robbery
I solemnly swear to stay down an' slang the seed
I spit in the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll, I'm gon' stay fly
I'm gonna bust, hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll, I'm gon' rich ride
I'm gonna ball, hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
This the itty bitty nigga, from the city they call LB
What you know about the D O G?
I keep my peeps wit a bag o' treats
On the streets, my nephews beat your beat an' keep that heat
In the Cutt an' indiscrete
Me an' Dub-C crippin' cousins in this industry
A lotta' y'all pretend to be
Wanna see, friends wit me an' then sleep wit the enemy?
Want some, get some, bad enough, take some
Suckas poppin' off, I'm 'bout to take one
Braids on, make done, don't want none
An' just 'cause we talkin', what you doin' C walkin'?
It's not just a dance, it's a way o' livin'
Now if ya C walkin', ya best to see Crippin'
An' that goes for kids too an' R an' B singers
Nigga, quit Crip walkin' if ya ain't a gang banger
I'm gonna roll, I'm gon' stay fly
I'm gonna bust, hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll, I'm gon' rich ride
I'm gonna ball, hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
I told a woman I don't love her but she wants to go
I told another that I want her but she wants to hoe
I ain't a hater, I'm a player, so I fucked 'em both
In the name of the streets
This is for them geniuz
Da best is my East niazz, both sides street niazz
This is for them DJs, coast to coast movin' this
Spinnin' them turntables that bomp the Ruvian
Smashous, best trap us for cash
An' dump a blunt at ya's, outta the mix classes
This is for them riders, ridin' for the mims
Ghetto ass niazz on them big shiny rims
Thrashin', you're back at ya, bring a debassa'
Got droppin' on your drastic, another hood classic
Dub the 'Ghetto Heisman' singin' 'More cabbage'
A street niazz livin' on seek an' kill status
Unlock the racked, Def Jam cock ya' back
Recess is over, I want my spot back
Who's the next? I preceded to blow comin' at 'em
I'm in a mink coat an' Spacey gat 'em, you're lookin' at 'em
I'm gonna roll, I'm gon' stay fly
I'm gonna bust, hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll, I'm gon' rich ride
I'm gonna ball, hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
Dub C, The 'Ghetto Heisman'
In the name of the streets
Swangin' through a hood near you

Intro: WC
Yeah, ain't nothing changed, know what I'm saying?
Still the same old same old, W.C. still in effect
Yo, break it down Jinx
Verse One: WC
Damn, suckers got me picking up my pen again
Swinging on my jock like Tarzan
Looking for a change, hoping my head swoll
Thinking I'm rich cause I made a little video
Shaking my hand, yeah right, now I'm a cool brother
But as soon as I step off, you're calling me a sucker
Mad, because I bust a Benz on Lorenzos
Hanging on the boulevard fronting on the flow show
You know it's funny when you start making money
Every Tom, Dick, and Harry want to be your buddy
The same ones that dissed ya, now it's a list of
First to riff, now they all on your dick, yo
I'm looking at you laughing, popping your lip
Ripping my zipper onstage, can pay the bail with a limp
Y'all don't want to give it up to me now that I'm getting pumped
Run around like Calamine, the same old Dub
Do I know where I come from, who's my friends?
Who's responsible for this little spot that I'm in?
Yo, I see them all playing in my car when I drive by
Telling all my homies "Yo, he ain't that fly"
The beat just cause I made a record the record
So please don't make me better than the next man, erase that gameplan
Cause I'm still down to bust a cap then backslap
Those who pop rap at the mouth like Ex-Lax
And those who wanna test me, step right up, bro
My number's the same, oh by the way, it's in the ghetto
I'm sorry that I can't flaunt the fortune and fame
But when it comes to the Dub (Ain't a damn thing changed)
Verse Two: Coolio
Ain't a damn thing changed, sucker, how could ya figure?
Coolio and Crazy Toons will never sell out, nigga
Sporting khakis and T-shirts, beanies and Starter caps
And land funky raps on the dop tracks
Should I dance on it for a couple of dollars?
Or sell away my soul to put a rope on my collar?
I was taken from the missed of the lost and missing
Rapping on dark road on my way to prison
Stuck me in the studio, put me on the radio
Told me to perpetrate like I was a hero
I ain't with that, Toons got my back
Do I have to use a gat to show you where I'm at?
Or pose with a forty ounce and fake like a killer
With a long black Cack like a small-time dope dealer
Diamonds on my finger and women at my feet
A house that I don't own and no respect on the street
Might be detained, cause I ain't trying
Let me explain, when it comes to Coolio (Ain't a damn thing changed)
Verse Three: WC
Whoever said living in the spotlight is simple as one, two, three
Ha, they must have been sipping on a ?Twizzeline?
Cause man I ain't used to this unusual behavior
Who wants a friendly neighbor?
Girls way back that told me to go to hell
Is sitting backstage, want to go to the motel
MC's that pretending that they was down from the giddy up
Trying to call you by your first name and stuff
Yo, and all these fake promoters stepping to the Circle
Remember how you treated us 12 months ago?
Yo, you didn't know bro, now you want a show
Toons tell 'em what's up (Give it up sucker duck)
Yeah, remember that the capital W told ya
Suckers don't fade me, popping hogging my jock
I keep to myself and I step with the pep
The lyrics of death, tell me how it sounds, G (Cool)
Waord, since I have to prove that I'm the same
And still remain dropping dogs in this rap game
To make it all simple and plain
Well let me put it like this: (Ain't a damn thing changed)

Sing it
For the niggaz with the bumps
Bump, c'mon, ba-bump
Comin through the alley with a trunk full of funk
Nigga who is you?
Who me? Oh, I be that nigga from back in the days
Once again up in ya, Ain't a Damn Thing Changed
Ahh, stage left with the right angle even
We got the MAAD Circle in the house dis evenin
Get down, and ya don't quit
Yeah yeah, that's it damn nigga, rock this shit, rock it
Aight, check one one, peep the blizzo
My trademark, chanky as fuck, with the slow funky tempo (what?)
Bumpin, straight bumpin, neck thumpin
Stick out your tongue motherfuckers I'm comin
Hardcore's the way that I swing yo
Back in eighty-eight I used to flow for the crew Low Pro
A seven year vet still strong as malt liquor
So mirror mirror who's the motherfuckin nigga?
Cause I'm the motherfuckin nigga
Now when I look in the mirror, what do I see?
Besides a shady-ass nigga slash rapper one of the first to stab ya
Up up and away think quick oh now, images start to click
I see your reflection, description young male holdin his dillznick
Chest out like Popeye, deadly as Magic Johnson
Droppin my third album, back for more like Charles Bronson
Rhymes (what?) hey, hey, I got a million of em
Takin this so-called gangster rap to another level
The capital W to the motherfuckers C-me in a beanie
All-star so clean, saggin with my Turkish earring
Down with the mad-ass zoo, I thought you knew
I bring flavor to the picture, the motherfuckin nigga
Cause I'm the motherfuckin nigga
Horns...
Bring the beat back, bring that beat back, yeah
Like that so I can fuck it up and treat it as if it was a four track
Locked down for years now releasin myself
Lettin my testicles swing from right left left right then back to the left
It's that quickster, mad hister, nigga looka
Beast known to make you give your motherfuckin hood up
Cooler than a chollo, gettin my stroll on
Goin solo, fuck all you niggaz should be my logo
Bitches wasn't down now wannabe on my team
Cause I'm kickin raps tighter than Leroy on Fame jeans
But they gets nathin but dug out like a booger
Cause like Abdullah on Car Wash, I'm hip to the game of hookers
Put the, put, put the needle back in time
And I can still remember when niggaz wouldn't let me rhyme
Beat it Cleotus I used to hear it from record labels
No doubt, deep down knowin I take all they artists out
But check me out now nigga, you can't stop the reign
Here to reclaim the fame
It's the four fingers up, two twisted in the middle
So who's the nigga, mirror mirror solve the riddle
Cause I'm the motherfuckin nigga
Fuck that, I'm the one, shit
Horns...
Am I the flyest nigga?

featuring CJ Mac
(man)
Hey, nigga, gimme some of them water and chip's, shit
(other man)
lock 'em up, nigga, lock 'em, bullshit
(man)
hey, look, nigga
get out there, nigga
these niggas ain't sho' ta riz-ayd, right
we gon' get in and get out
(other man)
we on a roll, nigga
[continues, indistinct]
[Verse 1: WC]
I'ma walk it down, now
fuckin' wit deez out-a-town niggas
got me watchin' up on my back and strappin'
pistol packin'
who ever thought dem fools would catch on
and we was sellin' rock while up in the back of the broll
see da plan was to make a transaction to match
three calos, for under the zone, a hundred thousand cash
you know da deal, nigga you know da outcome
dub C and C Mac take tha money 'n run
[CJ Mac]
We gettin' close, hot as fuck
burnin' up in his drive
two pace, mirror checkin' doin' sixty-five
I seen the state patrol 5 times, swear to god
he make this stop, better have 9 lives
nigga speak
[Man's Voice]
Where you at?
[CJ Mac]
Close nigga
you just have tha cash right so we can go's, nigga
I never tell no
nigga when I'm comin' through his town
set us up, get a crew, gun his town
[WC]
Fuck that, I dun dis shit befo'
after we twist deez niggas, we gon twist some mo'
(CJ Mac)
Out-a-town nigga havin' a pistal in hand
whatcha paper, you fuckin' wit some jackets, player
shit happens
[Chorus: CJ Mac]
Don't fuck wit a niggas cash
niggas blast, when it come to cash
niggas mash, on dat ass
Don't fuck wit a niggas cash
niggas mash, on dat ass
fo' a niggas cash, niggas blast
[WC second half overlaps]
(T'is da season to be janky falalalala lalalala)
[Verse 2: CJ Mac]
Hits J, sit straight, dey ain't even check
swiss suitcase, jit
we ain't stop to count da cash, nigga
shit, nigga, I remember
It was two a dem gas cans, was fulla straight heata
[WC]
fake twista, took her ass back to da piz-ad
sent some mo crystals back to da liz-ad
to make some mo trick-climbin'-blatant-nigga loot [wooh!]
cuz baby need new shoes and daddy need a coupe
[CJ Mac]
Call my nigga, Fred, yo friend
he set up da link
gave his ass ten-thousand, thanked him n' shit
told him 'Shut the fuck up', niggas try sweating
and have to take his ass out there, he bound to wetting
[WC]
Uh huh, two months passed, I found his ass trashed out
castrated on his porch, with his dick in his mouth
What the fuck? I know these niggas ain't here in L.A.
I went and grabbed the AK n' called my nigga CJ
{[music stops, dial tone] inside ( )= CJ Mac}
(What's crackin'?) Look it's on wit deez niggas (what?)
Hey CJ nigga I just found this nigga Fred fucked up
(slow down, nigga) on the porch (Fred?)
Hey nigga it's goin' down
Hey nigga meet me at cho bitch spot, nigga (what?)
Fuck that, let's bring these in hea
Fuck these niggas!
[Chorus x2]
[Verse 3: CJ Mac]
Goin' 110 on da 110, exit slow
shit my stomach uptight, sumthin' ain't right (fuck that)
How da fuck they found where Fred stay
they ain't never been out there, hold up, what the fuck?!
[WC]
CJ, don't trip, nigga, dey just killed yo bitch
left her bleedin' in the porch wit' screwdriver's in her head
ramshacked the house, took the work and the money
[CJ Mac]
I could see that shit, but why the fuck you so bloody?
[WC]
They took the hundred thousand we stole plus two mo' (right, right)
and if I know that nigga Bo he checked a in mo {motel}
[CJ Mac]
Bo, hard nigga, who parted the game
you didn't know that motherfuckas name!
first you found Fred dead, then you found my bitch wit her wig split
nigga I ain't stupid, you did that shit
[gunshot]
Motherfucka shot me in my shoulda
reached for my strap, and started dumpin' back
{gunshots continue}
[WC]
Nigga, lifes a bitch and then you die
you only get one chance to check, nigga, trust no nigga
shoulda known from the start, ain't no love in my heart
fuck this 50-50 shit, this is where we depart
[CJ Mac]
I'll be damned if I let this nigga walk wit' da dough
kill my hoe, boy, kill my hoe?
Five, fo' rounds, hit him twice, hit him in his stomach
see me vomit blood,
nigga eat slugs!
{gunshots continue}
[WC]
On my knees, I'ma see da bust back, fuck that
somehow I managed, ta raise wit da wicked carriage
ain't no rules to dis shit, we jackers
ain't no love in this game, mothafucka, shit happens
[Chorus x2]
I feel sorry, nigga
just like every dog has his day,
every loc get his nights
I'll be back at ya, my nigga (ain't no thang)
I can't believe yo ass did some shit like that to me, nigga
it ain't nothin' (hu, hu)
it ain't nothin'
It's goin' down
I'ma get that motherfucker
It's on!

(man)
Hey, nigga, gimme some of them water and chip's, shit
(other man)
lock 'em up, nigga, lock 'em, bullshit
(man)
hey, look, nigga
get out there, nigga
these niggas ain't sho' ta riz-ayd, right
we gon' get in and get out
(other man)
we on a roll, nigga
[continues, indistinct]
[Verse 1: WC]
I'ma walk it down, now
fuckin' wit deez out-a-town niggas
got me watchin' up on my back and strappin'
pistol packin'
who ever thought dem fools would catch on
and we was sellin' rock while up in the back of the broll
see da plan was to make a transaction to match
three calos, for under the zone, a hundred thousand cash
you know da deal, nigga you know da outcome
dub C and C Mac take tha money 'n run
[CJ Mac]
We gettin' close, hot as fuck
burnin' up in his drive
two pace, mirror checkin' doin' sixty-five
I seen the state patrol 5 times, swear to god
he make this stop, better have 9 lives
nigga speak
[Man's Voice]
Where you at?
[CJ Mac]
Close nigga
you just have tha cash right so we can go's, nigga
I never tell no
nigga when I'm comin' through his town
set us up, get a crew, gun his town
[WC]
Fuck that, I dun dis shit befo'
after we twist deez niggas, we gon twist some mo'
(CJ Mac)
Out-a-town nigga havin' a pistal in hand
whatcha paper, you fuckin' wit some jackets, player
shit happens
[Chorus: CJ Mac]
Don't fuck wit a niggas cash
niggas blast, when it come to cash
niggas mash, on dat ass
Don't fuck wit a niggas cash
niggas mash, on dat ass
fo' a niggas cash, niggas blast
[WC second half overlaps]
(T'is da season to be janky falalalala lalalala)
[Verse 2: CJ Mac]
Hits J, sit straight, dey ain't even check
swiss suitcase, jit
we ain't stop to count da cash, nigga
shit, nigga, I remember
It was two a dem gas cans, was fulla straight heata
[WC]
fake twista, took her ass back to da piz-ad
sent some mo crystals back to da liz-ad
to make some mo trick-climbin'-blatant-nigga loot [wooh!]
cuz baby need new shoes and daddy need a coupe
[CJ Mac]
Call my nigga, Fred, yo friend
he set up da link
gave his ass ten-thousand, thanked him n' shit
told him 'Shut the fuck up', niggas try sweating
and have to take his ass out there, he bound to wetting
[WC]
Uh huh, two months passed, I found his ass trashed out
castrated on his porch, with his dick in his mouth
What the fuck? I know these niggas ain't here in L.A.
I went and grabbed the AK n' called my nigga CJ
{[music stops, dial tone] inside ( )= CJ Mac}
(What's crackin'?) Look it's on wit deez niggas (what?)
Hey CJ nigga I just found this nigga Fred fucked up
(slow down, nigga) on the porch (Fred?)
Hey nigga it's goin' down
Hey nigga meet me at cho bitch spot, nigga (what?)
Fuck that, let's bring these in hea
Fuck these niggas!
[Chorus x2]
[Verse 3: CJ Mac]
Goin' 110 on da 110, exit slow
shit my stomach uptight, sumthin' ain't right (fuck that)
How da fuck they found where Fred stay
they ain't never been out there, hold up, what the fuck?!
[WC]
CJ, don't trip, nigga, dey just killed yo bitch
left her bleedin' in the porch wit' screwdriver's in her head
ramshacked the house, took the work and the money
[CJ Mac]
I could see that shit, but why the fuck you so bloody?
[WC]
They took the hundred thousand we stole plus two mo' (right, right)
and if I know that nigga Bo he checked a in mo {motel}
[CJ Mac]
Bo, hard nigga, who parted the game
you didn't know that motherfuckas name!
first you found Fred dead, then you found my bitch wit her wig split
nigga I ain't stupid, you did that shit
[gunshot]
Motherfucka shot me in my shoulda
reached for my strap, and started dumpin' back
{gunshots continue}
[WC]
Nigga, lifes a bitch and then you die
you only get one chance to check, nigga, trust no nigga
shoulda known from the start, ain't no love in my heart
fuck this 50-50 shit, this is where we depart
[CJ Mac]
I'll be damned if I let this nigga walk wit' da dough
kill my hoe, boy, kill my hoe?
Five, fo' rounds, hit him twice, hit him in his stomach
see me vomit blood,
nigga eat slugs!
{gunshots continue}
[WC]
On my knees, I'ma see da bust back, fuck that
somehow I managed, ta raise wit da wicked carriage
ain't no rules to dis shit, we jackers
ain't no love in this game, mothafucka, shit happens
[Chorus x2]
I feel sorry, nigga
just like every dog has his day,
every loc get his nights
I'll be back at ya, my nigga (ain't no thang)
I can't believe yo ass did some shit like that to me, nigga
it ain't nothin' (hu, hu)
it ain't nothin'
It's goin' down
I'ma get that motherfucker
It's on!

I got put on the set, smokin Jimmy Jacks in a shack
with my nigga Coolio, got me to' the fuck back
High as a UFO, standin in my drawers
in the hall, talkin to the walls
Now a nigga's spooked, umm
*Snagglepuss voice* Heavens to merkatroids, I'm looped!
I'm tripping! *normal voice* Nigga what do I see?
It's me, that nigga Dub C on the TV
Now I know I'm buzzed
cause I'm on the TV but the TV's unplugged
Damn, this shit is like the Twilight Zone
*sings theme* Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na; I'm blowed!
Cause now I'm havin illusions, illusions
of me on channel eleven on a black and white tube and
Mack and the Gene are one of mine show
Hangin with Sinead and they sippin on the four-oh
Now I know I'm trippin *Martin Lawrence voice* Oh my goodness!
Let me change the TV and
Dizamn! Once again there I go
But this time it's channel thirteen on Arsenio
I'm smokin a wet one on the couch
Givin up a fat middle finger to the crowd
I'm faded, but not in a way in which you ever seen
peep the side effects, yeah, I'm on the set
Chorus: *singers*
Asshole naked standin in front of the set; I'm wet
Ain't no escapin when yo' ass is wet; I'm wet
Look, look, way up in the sky everybody just
look, look, and you'll find me flyin high
So there I was, standin in front of the set mesmerized
Kickin off the scenery right before me eyes
High as a motherfucker what was I to do?
Cause now the yerm has got me thinkin I'm on channel two
Peep it -- bip-bip-bip like the bi-on-ic man I'm out of control
and now I see myself on Highway Patrol
Runnin from the Feds tryin to make my get away
but there's *singin* nowhere to run, ba-bay
And now exhausted from this drama I needed a rest
So I went on channel four so I can catch my breath
Now who's this after five minutes of bein there
I met this motherfucker named the Fresh Prince of Bel Air
Yeah this nigga was funny I must admit it
but his Uncle and his cousin Carlton was straight bitches
Them niggaz was cock blockin, talkin bout killin me
cause I told em I wanted to fuck the shit out of Hillary, ooh
Now what's a realer trip to fantasy, all I know
is she was lookin good sportin them t-shirt and panties, huh
I can't believe this shit, nigga I'm wet
Fuck tricks, my mind is playin with dipsticks, I'm on the set
Chorus
Still blowed from the chemicals I'm askin was it worth it
Cause like Slick Rick now Dub C is scared and I'm nervous
Cause now the TV's changin by itself, uh-oh danger
Cause now I see myself on channel nine on the Gladiators
I'm swingin on a rope with a gauge
Boom, bang bang, you niggaz can't hang
Fuck a obstacle fool, I had them buff bitches runnin
Mass confusion now I hear one-time comin
So I swing to the exit, jumped off and jetted
Thank God mama kept the baby gat ready
I left all them bitches behind, til I got to channel fifty-two
and there I found myself on Good Times
Here was me and this nigga named J.J.
Out on a double date, just sippin on Kool-Aid
Now umm, ain't no need for me to pretenda
like my date was all that like J.J.'s boo-boo Belinda
yo, but she had a ass like Thelma, titties like Walona
Drunk off the Mad Dog I fucked around and boned her
Like J.J. the pussy was dy-no-mite though
I must admit the hoe had a mug as ugly as Flo'

* car pulls up *
Hey fellas
Any of you guys seen Willie Calloway?
Wille who, man?
What you talkin bout?
Calloway, Willie Calloway
What this fool talkin bout?
Yeah
If y'all think I'm goin back to that muthafucka, you're crazy
Muthafuckas
[ VERSE 1: W.C. ]
It all started on a Saturday night, yo, I was restin my nerves
Coolin at the pad, smokin herb
Had a show the next day, so I figured I'd rest
Cause when I throw a show, I like to give it my best
Yo, that's when I heard the telephone ring
It was my homie named Gee, big baller from around the way
Said he had a party and he wanted me to come
And I couldn't even front, cause I owed him one
See, Gee was a homie from a long time ago
When I was young, he used to let me get the rag 6-4
I used to sell dope with him, even went to jail with him
He put me down, ain't no way I could forget about him
So now I got myself coolin at a party
On amp, playin dominos, drinkin Bacardi
Sittin at a table with some fools I don't know
Rollin the Endo, and sippin on Cisco
I had a feelin that just wouldn't quit
Bein around too many high rollers made me itch
I ain't the one to wear silk, so I felt like a jerk
Cause I was the only in some jeans and a t-shirt
Fools kept stearin at me, lookin kinda funny
Big Six on the table takin all the money
The party was on until the drink got low
That's when Gee slid me 10 to make a run to the sto'
He wanted me to roll with his homie named Joe
Smart baller, by the way, who drove a raggedy Pinto
That's when I knew right then and there
I had a funny-ass feelin it was trouble in the air
Cause now I'm on the roll with this nigga named Joe
Who wore [???] with a big-ass afro
Just my luck we got pulled to the side
(What happened?) Cocaine in the back of the ride
Since I ain't a snitch, I was thrown in the jailhouse
Doin 5 years over dope I didn't know about
No more women, and no more shows
Wish I was out on a furlough
[ CHORUS ]
Time again you wanna lock me up
Lock me up, lock me up
Time again you wanna lock me up
A nigga like me, you wanna lock me up
[ VERSE 2: W.C. ]
So now I'm in the jailhouse gettin all swoll'
Doin 2 to 5 for this nigga I don't know
Fools say jail ain't nothin to sweat
But if you ain't got a rep, you gotta claim your set
But I don't bang, y'all, so what can I say?
I'm just a funky rapper from around the way
But right in my face about a million brothers stood
Throwin up gangsigns, representin they neighborhood
Brother named Black who ran the yard
Told me, "Bust a funky rap, and you won't need a bodyguard"
Don't get me wrong, y'all, I'm far from soft
But for the next six months I was rappin my ass off
Now here we go, I had the whole jailhouse
Rockin back and forth, and even the wardens
Threw their hands in the air while I bust a rhyme
But now the chow line, y'all, was one big showtime
But that's when a riot jumped off
And they threw me in the box for startin it off
They told me for the next 7 months, if I laid low
Then I'd be egible for a furlough
[ CHORUS ]
[ VERSE 3: W.C. ]
Finally I'm out on a furlough
Back on the streets in a Coupe that's sittin kinda low
Yo, come to find that the group Low Pro done went solo
Now it's all aobut the Maad Circle
I'm hangin out with Tunes and Coolio
Drinkin out the brown paperbag, dodgin my P.O.
I'm only 'posed to be out for one day
But the judge don't know that I'm a runaway
Something like a fugitive, but I don't run, I bust back, y'all
No more sittin in the hole eatin chew balls
Now I pack my bag and grab my gat
And have the Maad Circle put me down on contract
And lay low like a snake in the grass
Change my profile and do away with the past
And now I'm gettin paid to be a vocalist
Accordin to the law, though I'm wanted on a hit list
Crazy Tunes, Coolio and Gee's the Maad Circle
And still to this day, yo, I'm out on a furlough
[ CHORUS ]
(He's probably twenty-somethin years old
And he gon' do 20, probably gon' do 20 years
That's what he hollerin about, you know?
Cause the guy, he's - he 20 years old
You know, he in his twenties
He's rude, and all that right there, you know
He might -
It's just like me:
I came in the penitentiary when I was 22 years old
You know, that's - that's the baby
You know, now - now I'm 40
You see what I'm sayin?

(*spanish*)
Let's take a trip..
[WC]
Initiated, gang related a zig-zag litted
Straight homicider when I'm sick with it
I tank, feels the pain, pistols aim
Hands trimbling, cause I'm caught in the mix of the game
See I'm needing this nigga that got those
Mo' Chicken's to Roscoe's, plus a direct with the Delgatos
Throw a tree, 14-9 a ki, and if I double that
Then I can get 28 off me
Now the clue to the tax, I'm slapping on the amount
Breaking em down, letting the lil homies circle mouths for ounce
Gram for gram, touching all the fiends
Why not nigga, ain't that the american dream
Have money, fuck hoes, cut low-lows
Blow dope dough, and nigga fuck mo' hoes
Hey what can I say, it's the american way
I'm jacking for mill-i-ons, I'm loved from y'all to the Indians
From Columbus to the one time, they all corrupt
And they got Bush in office so nigga we all fucked
Look, I gotta eat, so nigga fuck being nice
Shiiit, I'm trying to ball like Reverand Pryce
Call my nigga Gangsta (what's happenin)
What's cracking nigga, where you at
[Gangsta]
I'm on deck in the Midwest, with some ghetto stars
In a suite with one of the homies in a rent-a-car
Fuck with me, we can all get blunted and fin hundred
Spoke sling-shots, and fitty cabs with ends on it
See, three or four hund, and a four month run
I got your back you got mine, till the deal get done
[Chorus: Lina - 2x]
Let's make a deal, time to take a trip (Quanto Questro)
Let's take a trip (what they going for)
[Gangsta]
I got fifty in your hand when you land, so get here
Stop and drop, you won't have to sit here
Niggas is lined up, so keep mine tough
Back and fourth in freight-line trucks
14-9, gotta X out the middle man
Find out how much they'll charge us to get him here
Check six-hund and a six month run
Any nigga try to trip, whole shit get spun
Ain't nothing to it, but to do it (baby)
Staking paper to the ceiling like the (eighties)
Ask Anesto, Quanto Qeusto
Tell him that we got a hundred thous in a Benz or the Lexo
[WC]
La la la la la la la la
I'm about to catch me a homicide
[Gangsta]
Ah naw Dub, we done cracked him fo sho glove
We gone build up our trust, till they trust us with mo' drugs
Then, they gone wish they never knew us
Have em saying hathe pinche miatay, screw us
We called Anesto, at Texaco
Set up a meeting at Taco Mexico
(*talking*)
[Chorus]

Say nigga..
Bring me the big lighter, nigga
What's takin you so long, nigga, to flick me?
Smoke somethin, bi...
(Why you trippin?)
Old ratchet-mouth, 9-6 teeth-socket-mouth, ???-mouth
???????-chewin biatch!
If a nigga get in my way, nigga
I take they pipe, they monkey wrenches, they waterholes
Nigga, pander they lighters, nigga
Robbery, nigga
For cocaine!
Doub C's at the muthafuckin rockhouse
And I'm, hopin one of y'all can help me out, see
My brother's a basehead and I gotta get him
Before Mr. Dopeman kill him (kill him)
Plus he's makin my mother cry
Her little heart ??? and that shit ain't fly (smoked out)
And even though he's our oldest
I gotta deal with his ass from the muthafuckin shoulders
For hurtin the family like this
That niggga gotta get dealt with (muthafucka)
Used to be sittin on swoll
But now his ass is thinner than a car antena
Walkin down the block with Miss Strawberry
Smokin on any and every-
thing that'll get a nigga blasted
He's to the curb, plus I done heard
He been hittin on my neighbors for money
Runnin that bullshit drag
About his car ran out of gas
Damn, this nigga must be tweakin
Plus I ain't seen him all weekend
But when I do I'ma break that ass in half (ping)
With this muthafuckin baseball bat
And if all fails I got a automatic
But I don't wanna kill him, I wanna kill his habit
But some may say I'm goin about it the wrong way
But they don't stay over my way
And if you ain't never had a family member doin this
Then don't say shit
Cause I done tried rehabilitation
But to this nigga rehabs ain't shit but vacations
So now I gotta do it my way
So y'all excuse the tactic
I'm tryin to kill a habit
(Cocaine
Cause that's what he looks for, cocaine
Never does he ever get any sleep
Just walks day in and day out)
(He'll chase that high all the time)
Now I'm lookin for my brother bendin mo' corners
Rollin in a dookie green Nova
A nigga done searched all night
And his punk ass still ain't in sight
Swooped on the homies (what's up, nigga?)
Anyone of y'all seen my brother bailin around this muthafucka?
(Yeah..) They all pointed down the block
That's all I needed to know
Cause now I'm headed for the liquor sto'
Pulled in the liquor sto' parkin lot
Oh shit, somebody musta got shot
Cause all I seen was niggas in a crowd so deep
Heard a clap take up in the streets
So I went a little closer to see what it was all about
And standin in the crowd
There was my muthafuckin brother butt-naked
Doin the Wop in the intersection
Damn, the shit had his ass so high
After doin the Wop the nigga broke into the Robocop
That's when I grabbed and pulled him in a car
Got out of dodge
Took him home, locked him in the garage
Me and Toones tied him up, cuffed him up
Roughed him up, I mean we fucked him up
So y'all ??? screamin on mine
And excuse the tactic
I'm tryin to kill a habit
(Welcome class to Basehead Anonymous
We have a new friend with us here today
Would you please stand up and share with us..
- Watch out, watch out y'all
Hey all what's up y'all?
My name Willie Calloway
I'm a e-ex basehead
- Hi Willie..
( *applause* ))
6 months done passed
And everything's cool, my brother done got his size back
Sittin on monster swoll
Regrettin the day, give a fuck with the lleyo
Now here's with me and Toones, see
Until he's complete, he's standin back on his feet
Now my mother can smile again cause she's proud again
No more smokin (I quit)
He told us all, he swore
We'll never ever catch him with that shit no mo'
Till me and Toones got a call from D.C.
Hey nigga, it's time to promote the new LP (what)
So we packed our bags and hit the road for two weeks
Nigga, here comes bad company
But when we got back home
My brother, my furniture, my muthafuckin equipment was gone
That nigga done smoked it all up
And I ain't seen him since
That's why I'm so pissed
I guess I had to learn the hard way
The only one to kill a habit is the one doin the crack
It's like a catch 22, what can you do?
When somebody so close continuously fucks you
Hey yo Toones, pass the strap
Y'all excuse the tactic
I gotta to kill a habit
( *gun is cocked and shot* )
(You're, you're had
- That's it

(Talking) Back again...It's the jankiest the jankiest
Still gettin' my stalk on walk on
Verse 1
One of the G'est WSC riders
One about the Feds on camera with the folded bandanna
It's me the G you be a seein' Nighttrain sipper
two fingers split I'ma get her once again I bring her
Skip skip throw it up throw it up give it up or get rolled up
swole up thought I told ya 'bout this Maad Circle Soldier
Allstars locs pieces khakis and linens
the OG Godfather with the blue feather in it
The shadiest nigga what's crackin' who got the sack and
nigga what they goin' for everybody's on the floor
Make way for the loccest cutthroat with a beard long as Moses
walkin' through yo camps and striking penitentiary poses
A straight vet Connect Gang is my set
Since a rook I did everything in the book
Puttin' those thangs on ya like bing bing when I get ya
Loc this rap game ain't ready for a real cap nigga
Chorus
Not just clownin' we got thousands
still out bangin' the streets
Playas get jacked from thinkin' I'm acting
y'all can't see WC
(Repeat)
Verse 2
Now bow to the shadiest hood patrollin' west rollin'
7 figure nigga still hi fi growin'
Pistol holdin' bailin' with nothing but trues
jumping out the fo' in the corduroy house shoes
WC a G been in these streets for years
been loccin' since the Force MD's were singing "Tears"
Now what the fuck a new nigga got to say to me
I was pullin' 211's when KDAY was the Beat
1984 Lo Cali Sports Arena
and off of jams I'm jackin' fools for Filas
When Run DMC and Jam Master first bust
we was snatchin' mothafuckas outta Nissan trucks
Raised from a crew of real killers and knick kickers
that never ran on ya but was quick to put them hands on ya
(Talking) Ha ha Man y'all better figure us out quick
Ain't no rappers here we felons trying to make money at this here.
Chorus
Verse 3
It's the cap peeler night grinder west rider hood ratacider
Deuce 4 7 all day everyday
4 deep hittin' corners in a rag Chevrolet
Started out nada before I turned rich I used to do it for free
but now I ride for the paper
Maad Circle hit 'em up like bam
Where y'all from them enemies don't act dumb
y'all know where we from
It's that 15th letter 2 times with the S
cut off Dickie wearing descendant from the West
Steady square dumping in the center where the crowd
with my flag on my head tied Aunt Jemima style
But ain't nobody trippin' cause we all about the ends
plus fool I don't set trip I set trends
now after this I'm givin' y'all about a year
We gone see how many niggas grow braids in they beard.

[car speeds off]
[Verse One: WC]
[police sirens throughout song]
Last man standin', I'm shot
But I can't fear bleedin'
My nigga's face down, stretched out, no longer breathin'
I'm speedin', pump eatin', swervin' in the G and
Red & blue lights and squad cars is all I'm seein'
I told you motherfuckers 'No moves, no altercations'
Now it's half a tank a gas and a hostage situation
I'm facin', 25, with the 'L' so I'm stompin'
I can't shake One-Time bitch, I swear I'm dumpin'
Helicopters trailin' my ass, won't surrender
Only thang I'm givin' up is hollow points and middle fingers (fuck y'all!)
Whoever set this shit the fuck up, done got us fucked up
Runnin' outta time, and shit outta luck
Take that! [2 gunshots]
I ain't goin' down mothafucka'!
Take this! [2 gunshots]
My car roof could suck my dick!
I'm on a high-speed chase, with two money bags, [woman screams] and a
screamin' ass BITCH
It's All Bad!
[Chorus: WC w/ cops]
[cops] 'Possible 211 suspect driving southbound on the 215 driving an '84
Cutlass Supreme. Believed to be armed. Please proceed with caution.'
[WC] It's All Bad!
[cops] 'Everyone proceed with caution, suspect is believed to be a black male
carrying female hostage. We got a runner fellas.'
[WC] It's All Bad!
[Verse Two: WC]
They trynna cut me off against the gutta' lane
Trynna run these motherfuckers to the border man
Side-swiped the mothafuckin' El Camino!
Trynna get my black ass up outta San Bernadino
I catch the 215, to the 405
I'm catchin' hell trynna make it to the 5 I line!
They cut me off again I got to go the other way
Channel 5 in the sky we'll take [helicopter sounds] 'em through L.A.
[woman screams throughout] Quit screamin' BITCH (shut the fuck up!)
Ho' you slowin' me down, they ain't thinkin' 'bout yo' ass SHUT THE FUCK UP
now!
The bitch didn't budge, so I shot her, [woman stops screaming] 'Bla! Bla!'
[with 2 gunshots] (stupid!)
(Fuck, take a look at you now!)
I kicked the door open [door opens], threw her body on the freeway
Continued the chase, wiped the blood [door closes] off my face
Lookin' for an exit as soon as I reloads my mag' [reloads mag]
[car horns throughout] Stuck in heavy traffic...
Nigga It's All Bad!
Chorus: WC w/ cops
[car horns and helicopter sounds]
[cops] [unitelligible] 'Suspect has just thrown female hostage on the side of
the 605 freeway. We now have him in heavy traffic on the 105 heading
westbound.'
[WC] It's All Bad!
[cops] 'Looks like he's trying pulling 1-8 10 and Central. He might try and
make a run for it. Don't let him get away. Take this fucker.'
[WC] It's All Bad!
[Verse 3: WC]
Now it's time for me to make my getawaaaaaay!
Fuck a hostage, I'm doin' this the nigga waaaaaay!
I jumped out the car, and started squezzin' the trigga'
[8 gunshots] (bla! bla! bla! bla!)
And duckin' at 'em, I'm bustin' at 'em, laughin' at 'em, trynna splat 'em,
cussin at 'em
Like a true fuckin' G is supposed ta
I'm bustin' at the helicopter as I get closa'
Trynna shake 'em off my tail
I make's my way to the side of the freeway
Now I'm climbin' over the guard rail
I'm a felon, I can't take no shorts
I'm runnin' down Imperial past Imperial Courts
Stop to catch my breath 'til I heard the dogs barkin'
Now a nigga's runnin' past a nigga's [?]cigardens[?]
I hear the helicopter closin' in, yellin' 'freeze'
But I'm yellin' back 'fuck you!', hittin' 'em up with C's (fuck yaa'll!)
A beautiful day for dyin', nigga I'm hearin' sirens
On sight, no warnins that these coward's 'll be firin'
I made my way to Avalon
Peepin' any, get in the corner
I got's ta think quick, or I'm a goner
Saw this nigga slippin' in a '98 Ac-Right
[gun cocks, followed by a gunshot] (Get the fuck out!)
Left him bleedin' at the light!
Now it's back on, the money bag full of riches
Fuck One-Time, that get in my way, I'm killin' these bitches
I'm doin' 85 loc, these fools can't touch me
Came across Western, hit the back at Kentucky
Fish trailin', mashin' on my brakes I had to stop
Awww FUCK! Ain't this a bitch?! A road block!
[Break: WC w/ cops]
[cops]'Get out the car now I say, keep your hands up! Get out the car now or
I'm forced to shoot!' [gun cocks]
[WC] Fuck that...
[cops] He's movin'!! He's movin'!!
[car speeds off]
[car horns until beginning of chorus]
[about twenty gunshots]
[cops] 'Cease fire!! Cease fire damnit!!'
[Chorus: WC]
It's All Bad!
Dead on arrival!
Nigga It's All Bad!
Dead on arrival!
It's All Bad!
It's All Bad!
Nigga we all, dead on arrival!
[helicopter flies by]

*helicopter flies overhead*
[cop] One of twenty, I'm behind the vehicle
And there goes the suspect, he saw us now
*police siren*
*chopper still flying around*
*chains rustling*
Coolio, c'mon man, hurry up!
*chopper makes another pass*
*somebody whistles*
*chains rustling*
*siren stops*
[cop] Back here
Police officer, come on out or I'ma send in the dog
Police officer, come on out or I'ma send in the dog
*whispered "fuck em"*
Front em, front em!!
[WC]
Yeahhhh, beeaaaa!!
Back up in the mutha-fucka
Crawlin up the letter to skanless
Givin it up, straight holdin my nuts
Dub-C nigga, still chanky as fuck
Fresh out, so fuck the world nigga
This is MAAD Circle to the fullest, everybody killa
Takin it back to the days of drum loops
And lyrical skills, before niggaz got record deals
The dope game, when beats was the product
And only those with mic control made a profit
Before the shady ass contracts and restrictions
When niggaz true to this ruled the underground connection
Back to the days of hardcore
So lock your doors, here comes the MAAD Circle

[WC]
You niggaz can't fade this nutty-ass cutthroat Maad Circle villain
Leanin, scheamin in the Gremlin
Sippin on Mak Duk, on my way to Compton
to pick this nigga Coolio up
Two ski masks, on my left a nine
Nigga on my breath, money on my mind (yeah)
You god damn right motherfucker it's on again
Coolio what's the plan?
[Coolio]
It's a motherfuckin come up, nigga load ya gun up
It's gonna be a stick-up, came up on the liquor
You know that bitch that I used to fuck -- named Theresa
(Yeah nigga, with the big ass butt)
Well her brother was a client of mine
Drive some turnaround trips back and forth to Vegas part time (yeah)
Well anyway I got a caper (uh)
And if we pull it off right we can come up on a stack of paper
Here go the plan: me, you, and him
cause the nigga drivin the bus is down with us
Call Crazy Toones and tell him to give you a ride
and drop you off on Manchester and Broadway, at half past five
Since old people don't trust young niggaz none
you gotta be disguised like a senior citizen
Don't worry about escape cause it's OK
I'll be chillin close behind all the motherfuckin way loc
And I don't wanna see you act up
but if anybody trip you better handle that shit
[WC]
Nah man fuck this, this shit sound shady as fuck
You gon' fuck around and have us all stuck motherfucker
[Coolio]
Quit actin like a hoe, and go get yo' fo'-fo' nigga
and let's make some dough, check this:
Nuttin plus nuttin equal none
Fool grab the motherfuckin money and run
[WC] Right come on
Chorus: WC
Diamond in the back, sun roof cracked
Tank on E, niggaz low on cash, oohh-woo
(some R&B; sample) 'Straight jackin'
Chorus
[WC]
So now it's goin accordin to plan
I'm on the back of the bus dressed like a senior citizen
Sittin on a bus full of old motherfuckers
Wavin they bibles singin, 'I love Jesus!'
And now my concious is fuckin with me
cause I'm about to rob the entire gospel choir
And I ain't askin no questions
Whoever don't reply, I'm sendin em hollow point blessings
Cause I was told at seven on the dot
No matter the spot, to execute the plot
And my watch read 6:59
So aww shucky ducky, quack quack it's yo' time
Hands in the motherfuckin air! *pop pop pop*
This is a jack nigga, and I'm startin from the back
Necklaces, anklets to bracelets
to the Rolexes, I'm takin all they shit, huh
I had em shakin, steady fadin, money breakin
fillin my bag up with bacon
Lookin out the window at Coolio
yellin out a car on the side of the bus, 'Nigga c'mon!'
Yo, we gon' handle this loc
I told him like Janet Jackson, I had it under control
But really I was bein greedy takin too long
So peep the next verse but first the chorus of song goes
Chorus
[WC]
Standin in the middle of the aisle
A rag full of papes and jewelry, bout to make my escape
Coolio wavin, 'C'mon nigga hurry up
before one-time swoop, and you get us all stuck!'
Aight so now I'm on my way to the front
Bus driver, pull to the side or I might have to dump
He was down with us on our shady operation
So he pulled the bus over with no hesitation
But that's when the drama kicked in
'Motherfucker take that!' *blam* Damn I got shot in the back
Looked up and who did I see?
This bitch-made ass bus driver puttin slugs in Dub C
Twistin afflicted, burnin like syphillis
Lookin at death and I'm coughin up flesh
Ran to the car, 'Coolio I've been hit' 'Huh?'
'I told you the shit sound like a motherfuckin twist!'
[Coolio]
Wait, what's wrong, what the FUCK GOIN ON?!
This nigga must be trippin, we gon' have to kill him
[WC] Cool here come nigga grab your gun
[Coolio] Alright, I'm gonna have me some fun
Forty-four in the right hand, nine in the left
So I put twelve rounds in his motherfuckin chest
I don't know if it's yo' birthday, but bitch here's yo' gift
That's what you get for the twist, yea
Chorus 2X
[WC] Maad Circle nigga

[WC] Ooh-OOOOOHHHHHH!
[E-40] BEYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTCH! Huh-ha, hah!
[WC] Dub Cya, nya!
[E-40] Uhhhh, hah!
[WC] Fonzarelli, what's crackin loc?
[E-40] Whassupish weebelations?
[WC] $hort Dawg, we all hogs
[TS] Ain't nuttin nigga, it's that pimp shit bwoy
[E-40] We doin our thingamajig up in this BEYOTCH!
Verse One: WC
Thinkin of a master plan
Cause ain't naytin but crumbs inside my hand
So I, hit the stick, leaves my residence
Thinkin, "How can I get paid for spinnin this gangsta shit?"
A three-strike victim, with a million dollar dream
of swervin 740 Beem's and count G's from money machines
My click trump tight, nigga we roll like dice
For the ten china whites seekin hustler paradise
Where you from, what's your name, motherfucker what you sayin?
Dub C still claimin that Maad Circle gang and
smokin dank and drankin, jaw breakin runnin the pavement
Top rankin CD slanger, ghetto Hall of Famer
International resider worldwider packin heat
Mashin for the cheddar with No Limit's like Master P
Found my glitch in this rap game, now I'm steady bustin
Dub C, hoo-ridin for the chip but still hustlin
Chorus: *unknown singers*
Keep hustlin -- cause I'm all about mine, yeah yeah
Keep on hustlin... droppin keys funk stackin weed shiftin
Keep hustlin -- true players play it all night long
Keep on hustlin... on and on
Verse Two: E-40
Check it out; Dub C ?the below? system
got ya ninjas dang near ready to put hands on ?PGA any man?
Bout to bomb on this bitch-ass for turnin off my lights and gas, low on cash
Bad enough I gotta go next door to take a bath, ain't got no water
Plus I heard that the police department homicide division
wanna holla at me about a manslaughter
Triflin ass baby mama, she's a botch bitch think I'm rich
Don't know the outcome, talkin bout "He got bread, he on Dub album"
I play ya like dick and bend a dick's dream how can I focus (hocus pocus)
When I'm famous as "fuck Christmas Eve, eviction notice"
These rap videos gotta soon to be up and coming rappers thinkin cute
knowin that we unrecouped
E-Fonzarelli, P.K.A. Charlie Hustle
Knockin though, knock a hoe without a penny in my pocket
I don't come from much, so in order to do what I gotta do to survive
Tapes and CD's be my nine to five
Check it out, mathematics, paper rappamatics established
Long money, way before I signed for cabbage
Chorus
[E-40] Get your marbles main, get your paper ... glorify your paper route
Verse Three: Too $hort
Yeah
I'm comin from a fashion show, with a flashy hoe
Smokin indo from the Valle-jo
Like them 3rd Ward niggaz from the Calliope
If you tryin to get high, what you passin foe?
Top notch on my right smellin smoke
But she don't know about the hustlin that I did when I was broke
My best customers, real macks and G's
Dopefiend beats on the backstreets
Me and Freddie B sellin game
Custom made tapes with your name, you can't complain
I always been about the business, I ain't changed
As long as I'm in it, I'm stayin the same
Ghetto star, feelin the pavement
I'm always down to earth, tryin to get paid bitch
Ain't no secret, to what I'm doin
I got the game from Oakland so I came to this conclusion
Chorus
$hort Dawg, you know we players main
Get your money nigga
[E-40] E-40 get yo' paper main, get yo' change
[TS] You know $hort Dawg always get his scratch
[E-40] Dub C!
[TS] Nya! Nya!
[WC] You know I'm takin mine nya!
[E-40] Fssssssh, ahh, uhhhh, erytime up in they tall can face
Glorifyin our paper route, nonstop -- you know?

"L.A.! Californ-I-A!" (repeat 4X)
It all started on a Saturday night, I was at the Tilt
Faded off a eightball, when I got the phone call
I recognized the voice right off the bat
Octavia, a.k.a. the neighbor-hood-rat
I used to run up in her but I had to play broke
cause the bitch was known to twist mo' than hundred spokes
Talkin bout a party she was givin and niggaz was dippin
She wanted me and my crew to come through and
I couldn't find CJ, Toones was out of town
And Mack and Cube wasn't out nowhere to be found
And all that bendin solo shit, played out with Cooley High
Even in the movie Damon caught a black eye bitch!
Ain't no peace treaty motherfuckers is losin
In nineteen-ninety-eight, ain't too many niggaz chosin
So what makes you think I'm comin out tonight hoe?
You must be on Triple D: Dick, Dope and Dynamite
She kept claimin that security was tight
And if I came, we'd both be comin tonight
So I jumped off my kizznouch, grabbed a coat and my coat
Picturin my dick all down this bitch throat
Loaded up my heater, took the black nina
Jumped in my rizzide, headed for the Westside
Rollin in the rigga with the naughty
Bumpin "Flashlight" fool, headed for the party
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Uh-huh, uh-huh, fuckin with house party
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Shit ain't safe
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Kids don't try this at home
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
It's goin down, the music got the whole block blastin
And all I see is titties and bitches with big asses
I couldn't make it through, I had to go back
and park around the corner cause the street was packed
So now I'm bailin to the party, eyes damn near shut
Heater on my side, plus I'm high as fuck
Straight trippin off 40's, hoodrats and shit
With niggaz names tatted on they ankles and wrists
And all these Cutlasses next to empty bottles of Hennesey
An early indication of gangbangin activity
Got to the do', no security in sight
Just niggaz ridin on me, what that whoopty-woop like?
I felt like I straight mark, walkin in the house
Gettin punked by niggaz too young to get in Magic Mountain
So I rolled back on em, right on the spot
Told em, "Fuck your set!" That's when I heard the music stop
"Hey nigga what that stand for on your arm?"
"Ni-niggaz havin cash"
"You mean niggaz havin a collision"
"Get that nigga!"
"Don't let that nigga fall!
Don't let him fall!"
Stretched out on the flo', gettin fucked up
All I saw was knucklehammers and bottom of niggaz Chuck's
Bitches screamin, "Kick that nigga ass for me!"
He's teemin on my dome, ain't no motherfuckin sympathy
I grabbed my heat and started dumpin, hit the back do'
scot free loc and who did I see?
Octavia, pussy wet, drunk on the ground
Passed out on her stomach with her pants hangin down
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Shit ain't no joke loc, fuckin with a house party!
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Niggaz is gettin gunned down
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Ha hah, I don't know about where y'all from
but it ain't goin down where I'm from
Fuckin with a house party!
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Shit is real, check it out
Woke up the next day, little cut on my arm
One on my eyes and head, more knots than Barry Vaughn
Called the hoe up and cussed her punk ass out
She had the nerve to ask why a nigga turned the party out?
Nigga I scream on that bitch, I banged on that bitch
Nutted up on that bitch, hung up on the bitch
Stank-ass skank got niggaz crossin enemy lines
I should've stayed home and listened to my first mind
Cause now a nigga's layin down mad at the world
Lookin like the Elephant Man with a jheri curl
Sittin at killa King with forty-fo' stitches
Fuckin with these parties and these punk ass bitches
Fuck a house party!
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Ha hah, youknowhatI'msayin? Fuckin with a house party!
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} This shit is real loc, youknowhatI'msayin?
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Ay Toones, tell these motherfuckers
Fuckin with a house party
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Ain't nuttin but motherfuckin bandana swingin
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Y'all know what time it is
Bandana season loc, ha hah
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Fuckin with a house party!
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Fuckin with a house party!

WESSIIIR FOR LIIIRR NIIRR!
What you bitch ass niggas didn't think I was comin' back.
I told y'all niggas, I told all you niggas. You niggas couldn't
fade me nigga last album, the album before that one. Ol' New
Jack ass niggas. All you muthafuckas this what I want you
niggas to do. Check it out.
Turn it up turn it up
Umm pump up up the beat and
WC loc I'm like the Last Mohican
The rock of the Glock tucker
and I'm from outta the land of the hustlers
'hood rollers & Cutlass loccest ??
Nutted up on you niggas with the 45'n hane
Study the West ridin' gots to get my money man(e)
cause niggas don' got comfortable & fell the fuck off
went all the way soft ? the fuck off tryin' to floss
So now it's up to me to retrack step back
slide in my croker sacks put this gangsta shit
back on the map Come on.Da da da da daaa!
It's the return of the Shadiest rider G'd up
rippin' the game full o' dollars
Bumpin' More Bounce let it rain let it drip
saggin' to my knees with my starter cap flipped
Bailin' through the smog yellin' fuck the law
it's the downest of them all nigga WC the boss hog
Let it rain let it drip
Down ass bounties
and a pocket full of
chips skip skip [HOG]
Let it rain let it drip nigga
Let it rain.
Let it rain let it drip
Down ass bounties
and a pocket full of
chips skip skip [HOG]
Let it rain let it rain nigga [niiir]
Look at here,
May this be the anthem of anthems
for all dippin' the 'Shaw makin' shot call
junk hogs rips & dogs
Can't stop won't stop long as rap pays
I'm killin' the airwaves 'til my dick hairs gray
ain't no question no need to ask
Who's the West baddest livest
standin' center stage controllin' the crowd like Cyrus
Warriors come out to play
I'm off the Tanqueray crossin' every nigga
that's out now & puttin' a K [Killa]
Revokin' ghetto passes blastin' leadin' the masses
to kickin' asses fuck static these rap niggas is plastic [Bitch]
We need more street niggas [What!]
It's too many weak niggas with too much talkin'
not enough sidewalk chalkin'
So let me wave my handkerchief high as a flight &
show these muthafuckas what that South Central like [Westside]
So mirror mirror who's the downest of them all?
faded 'em all once again it's that hog nigga!
Let it rain let it drip
Down ass bounties
and a pocket full of
chips skip skip [HOG]
Let it rain let it drip nigga
Let it rain.
Let it rain let it drip
Down ass bounties
and a pocket full of
chips skip skip [HOG]
Let it rain nigga
Break it down,
[Mack 10 "Hoo Bangin," Sample mixed in]
[I put it down like a hog]
Yeah, yeah It don't stiiirr niiir
Cat we ridin' 'til the wheels fall off
Toons pass the sawed off. Fuck these niggas.
What we doin' nigga?
They can't see me nigga.
Fuck these niggas what's crackin'?
Now like the Tim' breeze this is dedicated
to all my real G'z locked down incarcerated
Slap my tape in ya Walkman and let it thomp [Bump...bu bump]
?Pass around to every nigga that California drops?
Sittin' on dubs with them triple gold thangs
Bitch fuck yo' nigga WC's a cold thang
Totin' Chronic smokin' Bionic workin' them 'draulics
Choppin' game for my niggas talkin that Westbonics [Niiir]
Rollin' on handlebars of beach cruisers & cahoots with
fools & tell 'em ?? until that ace deuces
Who get's the loosest?
Shockin' niggas like Ruthless
No con, the ghetto icon my shit's the bomb
When I die lay me face down in the grass
so when they view my body all y'all can kiss my ass
my obituary'll read:
When it comes to fadin' 'em all
it was me Willie Calloway A.K.A. the Hog
Let it rain let it drip
Down ass bounties
and a pocket full of
chips skip skip [HOG]
Let it rain let it drip nigga [HOG]
Let it rain.
Let it rain let it drip
Down ass bounties
and a pocket full of
chips skip skip [HOG]
Let it rain let it drip nigga
Let it rain.
Let it rain let it drip
Down ass bounties
and a pocket full of
chips skip skip [HOG]
Let it rain let it drip nigga [HOG]
Fuck that,
[Mack 10 "Hoo Bangin," Sample mixed in]
[I put it down like a hog]
What's happenin' nigga?
Fresh out of jail pour some cocktails
pull out the muthafuckin' rags & zig-zags
That's riiir niiir!! Diiir Ciiir in this miiir fiiir!!
Puttin' it diiir niiir! Dip to this, loc to this

Back in the days when I was tryin' to come up in the rap game
Livin' like a [unverified], bustlin' spare change
Drivin' a bucket, livin' in a shack
Tryin' to make the best out of what I had, usin' a pen and pad
There was this girlie that I wanted to get with
Who never gave me no play, because I wasn't rollin'
She said I was too ghetto and that a brother from the ghetto
Couldn't give her nothin' but hard times and trouble
But bein' I was young and dumb
And just thinkin' bout the putang, had me sprung
I used to play myself late at night goin' over her house, drinkin 40s
Standin' on the front porch singin' oldies
And even though her father used to run me away
I used to creep around the side and hit the back gate
Tappin' on her window, givin' her the ghetto serenade
And it went this way
You've got somethin' that keeps my head in a spin
You've got somethin' that makes me wanna give in
You've got somethin' that turns my head all around
You've got somethin' that takes me all down
I used to ask her all the time, "Yo, why do you play me?"
It shouldn't matter that I didn't drive a Mercedes
She said that I was probably only good for makin' babies
And my physical appearance makes me look crazy
She said that, "You look like you bang, or maybe even slang
And if you wanna be with me, you gotta rearrange"
But I wasn't 'bout to get a flattop or go in a suit
And come back in a new BMW
She said her parents wouldn't approve of the way that I looked, see
And plus you got nothin' to give me
You wanna get laid? You gotta keep me paid
That's when she lost me, man, 'cause I ain't payin' for the ying-yang
And even though I'm feelin' bad
I feel like this, I can't miss what I never had
So I gave it a last shot and right before I walked away
I hit her with the ghetto serenade
You've got somethin' that keeps my head in a spin
You've got somethin' that makes me wanna give in
You've got somethin' that turns my head all around
You've got somethin' that takes me all down
A few years later, now my dues are paid up
I got a record out, now I'm rollin' in big bucks
Flyin' all around the world, meetin' many girls
Everywhere that I go and makin' rap videos
And signin' autographs the other day
I looked up and guess who was comin' my way?
The same old girl who never gave me no rhythm
But this time standin' in the middle of five children
She done got fat, and now she's lookin' like the cookie monster to me
Walkin' around with the saggy booty
And runnin' that drag about how I done matured so much
And why I haven't kept in touch?
I started laughin' in her face, 'cause to me it was funny
Now she wanted me for my money
So I turned my back to her and I walked away
Leavin' her singin' the ghetto serenade
And here's what she had to say
You've got somethin' that keeps my head in a spin
You've got somethin' that makes me wanna give in
You've got somethin' that turns my head all around
You've got somethin' that takes me all down
Hey Dub, man, what's up, man?
You done got these braids off your head
Got rid of those khaki pants
Man, you sure have matured, man
How about gettin' your telephone number?
What's up with that, man?
Just 'cause I wasn't givin' you no rhythm

[Coolio]
Get on up on that funk
And maybe you'll feel better
(repeat 2X)
I got the funk inside me, yes it guides me
The light in my eyes, is shinin brightly
Just give me some deep bass, a snare and a kick drum
Turn it up loud and listen to the rhythm run
Whenever I'm feelin bad, angry or upset
I grab a cassette, and pop it in the tape deck
Album or eight-track, as long as it ain't wack
Funk is addictive, but not like crack black
I'm hip to the old shit, the shit that still hit
The Louisiana chicken and homemade biscuits
is makin my feet move, it sure does feel good
My head is bouncin, cruisin through my neighborhood
But this ain't pop though, R&B; or disco
Reggae or calypso, that's playin in my radio
It's that funk yes, won't settle for less
Sheeit, I must be blessed, now check it out
[W.C. and Coolio]
Get on up on that funk
And maybe you'll feel better
(repeat 2X)
[W.C.]
Check it out
Now turn up your radio, EQ the stereo
I'm glad that y'all could make it to rock with the Maad Circle
And this is a preview, somethin to move to
Listen to groove to, I hope I don't lose you
Now I am the miracle, some say I'm spiritual
But I'm from the ghetto what? I live off Imperial
Dip dab smacked in the heart of South Central
I might make it out (why?) cause I got potential
I ain't livin by protocol, cross me you're sure to fall
Another sucker, sippin on some Eightball
Left by the wayside, run but you can't hide (yeah)
Call it foolish, but I got the funky ride
Now hear what I'm sayin (yup) You might think I'm playin
Been rappin so long, some say I need a vacation
Emcees wanna be me, some girls wanna skeeze me
But I play the back, cause I'm scared of A-I-D, S
to the next paragraph I must move on
You might know my face (why) cause I made a funky song
[W.C. and Coolio]
Get on up on that funk
And maybe you'll feel better
(repeat 2X)
"Coo, Coolio! Show em what's on the mic!"
[Coolio]
I love the funk, and the funk loves me so
I'm stuck to the funk and I won't let go
Ain't no mountain high or valley ever deep enough
to keep me away from the rhythm of the funky stuff
I know who I am, and Sam I ain't
I'll never fake the funk, I won't cause I cain't
Crazy Toones on the fader, kinda like Funk Vader
On tape like great, dominate the record player
So Dub (whattup?) Won't you step to the front
and give the real meanin of the word funk
[W.C.]
What's my meanin of the word funk?
Well let me give a demonstration
Minority Alliance of Anti Discrimination
In other words, an organization of my homeboys
stealin from the rich and famous
And givin back to the poor folks in the slums, yo
Cause neither one of us forgot where we came from
Cause when you sellout, you're out, and we don't want ya back
Nigga playin both sides, I gotta peel his cap
Cause one thing the Circle ain't down with and that's
all these bourgeoise negroes, better known as COWARDS
Huh, sick of society, approval they try so hard
with your brand new cars
Try to fit in with the upper class, but the upper class
was a mask, and they LAUGHIN AT YO' ASS
That's why I'm down with the M.A.A.D. Circle
But still keepin it Low Pro, workin for the po' folks
So everybody watch your back
I'm like the spook who sat by the door with a gat yo
(I know you can funk these words to the letter
Get up on the funk and maybe you'll feel better, yo)
[W.C. and Coolio]
Get on up on that funk
And maybe you'll feel better

"L.A.! Californ-I-A!" (repeat 4X)
It all started on a Saturday night, I was at the Tilt
Faded off a eightball, when I got the phone call
I recognized the voice right off the bat
Octavia, a.k.a. the neighbor-hood-rat
I used to run up in her but I had to play broke
cause the bitch was known to twist mo' than hundred spokes
Talkin bout a party she was givin and niggaz was dippin
She wanted me and my crew to come through and
I couldn't find CJ, Toones was out of town
And Mack and Cube wasn't out nowhere to be found
And all that bendin solo shit, played out with Cooley High
Even in the movie Damon caught a black eye bitch!
Ain't no peace treaty motherfuckers is losin
In nineteen-ninety-eight, ain't too many niggaz chosin
So what makes you think I'm comin out tonight hoe?
You must be on Triple D: Dick, Dope and Dynamite
She kept claimin that security was tight
And if I came, we'd both be comin tonight
So I jumped off my kizznouch, grabbed a coat and my coat
Picturin my dick all down this bitch throat
Loaded up my heater, took the black nina
Jumped in my rizzide, headed for the Westside
Rollin in the rigga with the naughty
Bumpin "Flashlight" fool, headed for the party
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Uh-huh, uh-huh, fuckin with house party
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Shit ain't safe
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Kids don't try this at home
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
It's goin down, the music got the whole block blastin
And all I see is titties and bitches with big asses
I couldn't make it through, I had to go back
and park around the corner cause the street was packed
So now I'm bailin to the party, eyes damn near shut
Heater on my side, plus I'm high as fuck
Straight trippin off 40's, hoodrats and shit
With niggaz names tatted on they ankles and wrists
And all these Cutlasses next to empty bottles of Hennesey
An early indication of gangbangin activity
Got to the do', no security in sight
Just niggaz ridin on me, what that whoopty-woop like?
I felt like I straight mark, walkin in the house
Gettin punked by niggaz too young to get in Magic Mountain
So I rolled back on em, right on the spot
Told em, "Fuck your set!" That's when I heard the music stop
"Hey nigga what that stand for on your arm?"
"Ni-niggaz havin cash"
"You mean niggaz havin a collision"
"Get that nigga!"
"Don't let that nigga fall!
Don't let him fall!"
Stretched out on the flo', gettin fucked up
All I saw was knucklehammers and bottom of niggaz Chuck's
Bitches screamin, "Kick that nigga ass for me!"
He's teemin on my dome, ain't no motherfuckin sympathy
I grabbed my heat and started dumpin, hit the back do'
scot free loc and who did I see?
Octavia, pussy wet, drunk on the ground
Passed out on her stomach with her pants hangin down
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Shit ain't no joke loc, fuckin with a house party!
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Niggaz is gettin gunned down
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Ha hah, I don't know about where y'all from
but it ain't goin down where I'm from
Fuckin with a house party!
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Shit is real, check it out
Woke up the next day, little cut on my arm
One on my eyes and head, more knots than Barry Vaughn
Called the hoe up and cussed her punk ass out
She had the nerve to ask why a nigga turned the party out?
Nigga I scream on that bitch, I banged on that bitch
Nutted up on that bitch, hung up on the bitch
Stank-ass skank got niggaz crossin enemy lines
I should've stayed home and listened to my first mind
Cause now a nigga's layin down mad at the world
Lookin like the Elephant Man with a jheri curl
Sittin at killa King with forty-fo' stitches
Fuckin with these parties and these punk ass bitches
Fuck a house party!
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Ha hah, youknowhatI'msayin? Fuckin with a house party!
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} This shit is real loc, youknowhatI'msayin?
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Ay Toones, tell these motherfuckers
Fuckin with a house party
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Ain't nuttin but motherfuckin bandana swingin
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Y'all know what time it is
Bandana season loc, ha hah
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
{WC} Fuckin with a house party!
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"

[Verse: WC]
We been through SL Coupe
Wrist froze like Igloo
Big Lou, Tony get your sauce swirled
Come twisting, Nina whistling that you with your home girls
Big bankers, Big drinker, I see you sneaking
A peak so I know you live these gangsters
Freaky thoughts got me cussing at you
Visualizing me in side ya, baby can we holla
Lookie here lets skip the fake conversation and all the waiting
My name is Dub what's crackalatin
Certified rider, all nighter, dipping in the Impala
Trying to get you with this anaconda
Be your friendly neighbor-hood neighbor with paper
Chrome and wood on the Chevy baby
Bust rubbers go deep under covers
A freaky mother fucka' we should get to know each other
[Chorus: Case]
Come take a ride with me baby
Me and my homey bout to blow - Flirt
I saw you at the light looking bright
Banging from your head to your toes - Flirt
Can't tell the future, I don't know what tomorrow holds
But we can smoke a little chronic, drink a little
And if it's good, drink a lil' mo - Flirt
[Verse: WC]
Ain't no denying I'm straight buying
You in that tight skirt
Cause baby you got my flirt
Shutting all rookies down
Stub down Dub Cezzy
A.k.a. Pussy Hound
Who was snitching, punany technician
Trying to make your head off from multiple positions
Off a yatch and moet
I fiend for sex, menage a trois and getting freaky of that ass
Cause I insert it
Squirt it wit you on top jerking it
Playing Mystikal like 'show me what you working wit'
Running up in it playing dead duck let me put the plug in it
Show you how a thug hit it
Exchange lines, blazing drinks St. Ides
Trying to do the damn thing wit you
And your girl at the same time
No commitments to make the butt riches, a machine loving m vocabulary, flirt
[Chorus]
[Verse: WC]
I got a problem, and it's serious as cancer
No matter what you call it baby I'm a fuckaholic
Trying to get you on the lizo to blow
And whistle my melody, part them legs open like the Red Sea
Make you smack hit it from the back
While I'm creeping in the hood blowing on dubs sac
As long as your kit-kat gets wet and percolate
No matter the color or size, I can't hate
I like the skinny ones, thick ones the whole entre
I even think I'm country for fat monkeys like Beyonce
Wet lips and as ghetto as Vivica
Nasty long tongue known for licking ya
I might trick a little just to keep the litter
But tripping as G gon' cause we goin sip
I'm mashing to smashing
There's too many asses
I can't role past them, I'm getting at them
[Chorus] (2x)
[Outro: WC + (Case)]
(You me, Dub-Cee)
Uh, Dub-Cee (Flirt)
Case (that's me)
New millenium shit (baby baby babe)

(I wanna know do you feel it
Let me know do you feel it
Do you feel it) --> Ohio Players
Make ya feel me
I'm with this right here
Hey yo Toones, turn my headphones up
Turn em up nigga
I can't hear shit
Fuck them muthafuckas
Fuck that nigga
I'm in this muthafucka
Yeah nigga, right here
[ VERSE 1: WC ]
Freeze, nobody move, hands up
This ain't no muthafuckin game, niggas is gettin stuck
So uhm (uhm) get yo ass ready for the big beat bangin
(What?) dick danglin, pants saggin
Rank slangin while Toones spin the records
Going back, back, forth and back
It's that local janky-ass junkyard funk kickin
Purse-snatchin car-jackin Ripple-sippin
187, with the world I got beef
And I don't wanna hear no talk about peace
Cause I been lied to, cheated, dissed and mistreated
A victim of a sodomy to this record industry
So now it's on to the fullest, so get the bullets
Cause that's the only way y'all gon' stop me when I do this
Like ping, ba-ba-bam, straight to your jaw, fuck seein me
In '95 I'ma make sure you cowards feel me
[ CHORUS ]
(I wanna know do you feel it
Let me know do you feel it
Do you feel it)
(Fo' hoppin, ass droppin) --> Ice Cube
(I wanna know do you feel it
Let me know do you feel it
Do you feel it)
(Fo' hoppin, ass droppin)
[ VERSE 2 ]
Feel me, feel me while I dip through your hood
Just mobbin and squabbin cause we up to no good
(No good) I got a MAAD-ass Circle full of gees
Rollin treys and fo's and El Caminos on D's
( ? ) with the ( ? ) amps
Bendin the corner as I floss all my Zeniths slide across
Lookin for my competition, if any
I'm burnin rappers like ( ? ) mama burned Penny
But this ain't _Good Times_, it's nothin but hard times
And where I'm from, we kick nothin but rough rhymes
The M-A-A-D C-i-r-c-l-e
Slingshot khakis and a pair of wallabees
Three braids in my beard represents the year
Of another LP for those chose to sleep
Best to wake up, recognize, I comes with the real, Dub C
Doin dirt to make sure you muthafuckas feel me
[ CHORUS ]
[ VERSE 3 ]
Last verse, now how should I come with the wickedness?
Now I got you noddin to my bassline riff
Goin bump-bump-bump, the guitar strums
As I beat you down with the drums
The lyrical night stalker, still payin dues
And this year I'm servin many and anything that moves
So which one of y'all wanna run up
And be the first to get your whole dome ( ? )
Fool, I'm makin noise like a Glock on your block
When I drop, ever since I popped it don't stop
And even if I stut-stu-tu-stuttered over the beat
I still can catch wreck, so don't try to compete
( ? ) amateurs best to play the back
Or fuck around and get that ass rocked and rolled up like Anthrax
This ain't no joke dudes, I pray for my enemy
(I pray for em) Lord have mercy when they feel me
[ CHORUS ]
( *adlibs* )

You know what's makin' me mad?
Day after day I'm catchin' all of this slack
Seems you gotta wear a suit, unless you wanna jacked
'Cause in the '90s, y'all, these fools got a set of them thangs
Where if you ain't wearin' a three-piece suit, you gotta gang bang
I walked in a rest', 'bout to order
And people starin' like I had manure on my pants
Grabbin' they purse, checkin' they wallets in the back
And thinkin' I'ma rob em, 'cause I'm in all black
Yo, my Corduroys are cuffed with a crease down the middle
Snake skin around my waist, so my pants hang a little
But I don't deal the package of crack
So what's the reason for the dirty looks?
Yo, check my name in your books
Seem like every time I slap on my Starter cap
And step for a breath of fresh air
I end up fillin' up a questionnaire
"What's your name?" "Where you're goin?"
"Yo, what gang are you from?"
They tell me "Don't get smart" and so I play dumb
'Cause when I tell em where I stay, it doesn't get better
Live in South Central, they assume you got a jail record
A stereotypical attitude
That if you look like me, you gotta run with a crew
'Cause when I step upon the scene everybody's gettin' petrol
No matter what the color
(What's up?)
I'm gettin' sweated for my dress code
(Wear a shirt and tie and run with the creeps)
(That's why they dress just like suckers)
(Ha?)
(Suckers)
(What?)
(Suckers)
What is this, a prison? I'm buggin' off the way that I'm livin'
Seems everywhere I turn I'm assumin' the position
At school I'm gettin' tired of hearin' the same old thing
Here come the rickety security, sweatin me for my earring
I don't carry a gun, though they consider me a threat
I guess I got em scared by the way that I dress
Unlike you I couldn't afford to shop at Macy's or Penny's
So it's off to the swap meet for a fresh pair of Dickey's
So what you're tellin' me, is now I'm a crook
Who wrote the book on how a kid in my position's supposed to look?
Get me a fade and a pair of tight pants
I get a chance with the girls who wouldn't give me a glance
A big funny lookin' hat just to cover my naps
A pair of patten leather shoes might keep me out of scraps
If I made that turn, it might save me some trouble
But I gotta watch my back, on the alert for a squabble
Don't go here, don't go there, brothers comin' up missin'
Got a pocket full of money, and I'm still getttin' dissed
'Cause it's a scam or a phase of my life that I'm goin' through
If you dress like me, you gotta run with a crew
I'm tickin' like a time bomb, ready to explode
Even in my front yard
(What's up?)
I'm gettin' sweated for my dress code
(Alright, fellas, no tennis shoes, no hats, no khakis, alright?)
Let's take a trip to the club scene
(Somebody tell me what's goin' on)
You gotta wear a silk shirt just to dance to a funky song
Bouncers makin' enemies for minimum wage
But they're the first ones to run when the club gets sprayed
Don't wanna let me in, because I'm wearin' my beeper
And if you're sportin' gold, then you gotta be a dope dealer
(I paid 17.50 to hear a funky rhyme flow
And they're sweatin' at the do' like I just entered a fashion show)
Yo, they put a curfew on Westwood, to keep me in my neighborhood
My hat's to the back, so I must be up to no good
(I got a jacket on my back for the fact that I rap
And they heard I was from Compton, so they ran they pennies back)
Scared of me for what, no, I don't wear tux
And if I ever got a Grammy, man, I'd bail in some Chuck
Tailors to show the whole world it's alright to be yourself
Should I change the way I dress, so I can look like the rest?
Wearin' red, black and green, but they don't know what it means
Put on a African medallion, now they're down with the team
Penetratin' for a click, first they wouldn't, now they switched
But they ain't gettin' rich
(Ain't that a bitch?)
Go strike a GQ pose, I got soul in my stroll
So they ban my video
(For what?)

This one here's for The Creator
'Trying to get over...' like Curtis Mayfield said
I was a problem child, running wild in the night
Livin on a not-so-safe set of life
Caught up in the rapture, quick to blast ya
Neglected as a juvenile, so labelled a 'ghetto bastard'
Forced to live the life of a hoodster on the prowl
Goin through my life with a permanent frown
But still you stood by me and you got me here safely
Never turned away from me when others lost faith in me
Even when I was a non-believer and doubted your existence
You still shed mercy on my ignorance
How can I say this, no words can't explain
How much I thank you for helpin me deal with the pain
For sparin my life at times I thought I was through
All praise is due, here's to you
[ CHORUS ]
This is for the lover in you
This is for the things that you do
This time I will take up for you
Cause your love's gon' last forever
Now as I reminisce like Minnie Riperton in a Pendleton
I'm havin flashbacks 'lookin at these photographs'
Glancin at old flicks of me and my dogs
Thinkin how we all played little league football
No set-trippin, we was down for one another
>From pups to mutts, we came up, Westside hustlers
You couldn't stop us, no matter what you told us
Starched Curduroys with the fresh peachy folders
Washington High School, damn, them was the days
The 12th grade came and we went our own ways
Doin what we had to do to make ends meet
Some of us went to college and some kicked the streets
Some of us passed away, some just faded
Some turned snitch, and some is incarcerated
Me, I been blessed to catch wreck over beats
But without you, this wouldn't be complete
[ CHORUS ]
(Ooh child, things ain't gettin any easier...)
Survivin in the ghetto you gotta stay strong
But realistically no man out here can make it alone
Ain't no sleepin, none of us creepin
I see the men that's in the streets, and
Smokers fiendin, the drama got me thinkin
How I need to play as if I was a Stylistic
And stop and look and listen
Take a second out to count my blessings
Cause you coulda laid me down a long time ago
But you let me live, and God knows I ain't a angel
So I'ma take this opportunity to flip the script
For the lover of you, cause props is due
For sparin my life at times I thougth I was through
I gotta give it up, here's to you

[Cube]
Uhh uhh Come on...
Got to get the scrilla got to get the scrilla
got to get the cash hey come on got to get it (huh huh)
[repeat 3X]
[WC]
Ridahs please callin' on all ridahs please
Blowin' through the wind like the sticky green breeze
Back once again straight faded off Henn'
It's that nigga WC with the pocket full of spend
runnin' all the gators with the new chrome feet
checkin' through my rearview with my hand on my heat
Cause hatas can't stand to see a nigga doin' good
but fuck Hollywood I'm a still bang the 'hood
Gettin' my stalk on walk on loc I'm all about the paper
hoppin' out the Navigator with braids & Chucks Taylors
A regulator scopin' the field like a commentator
Dodgin' investigators haters & salt shakers
the cookie baker the 64 pancaker
Bitch my whole entourage is full of kit makers &
gators trip makers to Vegas from bird breakers from skyscrapers
tippin' nobellas cause loc we's all about the Cheddar
[Mack]
See we down for whatever
It's all about the Cheddar
I put that on my life & the 23rd letter
[Cube]
Everybody get yo' scrilla
Don't worry 'bout ya time zone
homie get yo' grind on
[Repeat Chorus]
Better
bounce baby baby bounce baby baby bounce
to them outta town niggas I still got 'em 9 an ounce
Can't rely on no label to send my kids to college
so after I rock the spot meet me in the parking lot
Now call it what you want but the game got me cheese
with bitches on my dick since my last CD
I went from young black & broke bro' to dub the inevitable
turnin' over three decimals bangin' the oyster perpetual
let it go rags to riches buckets to Phillies
I went from no dough to mo' dough
to still gettin' these switches
I'm wicked for digits forgive me God for the truth
but I fiends for Cheddar like a smoker with a sweet tooth
Got game from Legit & 40 C Mac & Short
Cube told me the key to it all is to keep hustlin' loc
Put your family first & the rest will endeavor
Stay focused & forever we can get this Cheddar
Come on...
[Mack]
See we down for whatever
It's all about the Cheddar
I put that on my life & the 23rd letter
[Cube]
Everybody get yo' paper
Don't worry 'bout ya time zone
homie get yo' grind on
[Repeat]
[Cube & Mack]
Get it Get it
Ahaha My nigga that shit is hard as fuck
Get it get it get it get it
Hey you got they heads bobbin' & everythang nigga
but what I really want to hear from you
Get it got it
is some of that jingle shit you be doin'
[WC] (Cube & Mack)
Ring duh duh duh ding ding ding givin it' up
(yeah--naw naw fuck that dog come again)
out of the Westside of SC fuckin' it up
Ring duh duh duh ding ding ding givin it' up
out of the...
Hold up nigga wait a minute fuck that yo
(What's up?)
Yeah I got dollars in my pocket & I'm from Rollin'
janky as fuck so you know my gold is stolen
From the ghettos of Cincinnati Europe to Killa Cali'
I been around the world & ya ya like Puff Daddy
Lookin' for the Cavi' yet caught in a drought
connected with the Don & copped one from SuaveHouse
Betta bet ya stepped on it cause last year ya slept on her
but now I'm up on her givin' golden showers to my opponents
Grindin' til I'm paid in full
Pledgin' allegience to them dollar bills
baguettes on 'em bigger than pit bulls
Only true playas can comprehend what I'm talkin about
aiiyo Mack I think I'm over the can loc carry me out
[Mack]
See we down for whatever
It's all about the Cheddar
I put that on my life & the 23rd letter
[Cube]
Everybody get yo' money
Don't worry 'bout ya time zone
homie get yo' grind on
[Repeat]
[Mack]
Yeah Gung Ho Mack 10 with my G homie the Shadiest One
WC yaknowhatI'msayin' cookin that 100% pure Bombay
Caviar bringin' that shit to a 'hood near you nigga, What?
WESSSIIIDERIIIDERRS BAABYYYY!!!!! Uhh uhh Come on

Mm, mm, mm
[WC]
Aw Yeah
I'm wit this
It's me, the shadiest one
(Dub, callin' all dubs)
[Ice Cube]
Hot licks, hot licks
Comin' wit them hot licks, hot licks
Hit 'em wit them hot licks, hot licks
Rollin' with them hot licks
Hot licks
[WC]
Haters steppin to me, they wanna get some
But I'ma dub, yo, yo, you know the outcome
Another victory, they can't get wit' me
Smoke from the left so coupe it's all they ever see
I'm on the grind, I got's to get mine, loc
I been puttin' it down since the days of low pro, so
Why's everybody now hatin' on me? (why?)
Could it be I'm runnin' wit the dub SCG
Or is it that I'm countin my riches
Getting' my fingernails cleaned
And being braided by the finest bitches
Whateva the case you need to back up off my Benz
Keep my name out yo mouth and slow down like loose ends
'cause I wrote for gears, y'all
Came to 'fore I served all y'all
I deserve my R y'all
Dub C, the new leader of the pack
Wit' the brand new sack, and yo, I can't hold back
Chorus: Ice Cube
It ain't a problem that I can't fix,
And I can do it wit' yo bitch
So if you lookin' for trouble and you wanna feel muscle
All up against yo brain
It'll weigh those troubles down the drain
I said I'll weigh those troubles down the drain
(Bang, bang dub C!)
[WC]
Not just braggin', snippin', saggin'
Bang when I talk make the whole world c-walk
I wants a little, yeah nigga, no doubt
I put myself in this game, and I'm the only one can take me out
The 4 droppa wit the Jocelyn complexion
Still love the women with tats and C-sections
Protection, got my own bodyguard nigga
Fuck security, sleep wit my finga on the trigga
A street scholar, born into nada go riff-rockin' prada
To rockin' shows in the Dama Fleet collar (hoo hooooo!)
Never thought a rapper can be livin' like this
All I wanted was for real loc's to feel my shit
Paid dues, curb served, for what, connected?
Sometimes feared but I'm never disrespected
Get the cash and mash, drivin' for the meal ticket
Stretch and takin' work, we gon get it, I can't hold back
Chorus
Get up, get up, get up, now throw your hood in the air
Let me know you out there
Eastside, Westside, South and up North
If y'all respect mines then I will respect yours
From the crips to bloods to latinos
I'm down with any nigga that's down for makin' c-notes
Illegal, a dozen egos can't lie
I'm addicted to twistin fools for them birds that don't fly
cause real G's chase cheese and shake busters
Cut for one another motherfuckin' color
We quick to bring it, but ain't got time for the drama
I'm all about stackin' dollaz and swangin' Impalas
I got my money to make, niggaz a gank, yea to chase
Keys a takin', bottles of paint, pounds of flip, a bottle of steak
Nigga to drink, pepper the bank, hose the brake, goes the weight
Foez the cane, but it's over, finish this game, what's my name?
(scratching)
I'm, I'm, I'm a dub to the C
I'ma dub to the C
I'ma dub to the C
I'ma dub to the C
Chorus
Bang bang

(Talking)
Here's a story
About a bitch
About a bitch I once fucked wit
Now I want ya'll to listen real close
Shit's a trip
Peep game
Used to have a bitch that was true to life to me
Damn near a wife to me
The bitch was just right for me
Stood by my side
Used to help me wit my hustle
Down to pack straps and a cap if we had a tustle
I used to trust her wit my riches
I be in the kitchen cookin chickens
While she be washin dishes
150,000 in the attic
Pager blowin up all night, my bitch never gave a nigga static
I used to make her mad enough to kill
Lipstick on the front of my draws, man my bitch was real
'cause she never stole nothin
Gaffled by the FED's 3 4 times and never told nothin
But wait
My bitch is gettin distant on me
No more back rubs and kisses
What's happenin wit my little misses
Too sleepy for the sex play
Now what's really going on the same shit the next day
Damn I know she wouldn't fuck around
Still I taps all my phones and records every fuckin sound
Conversations wit her homegirl but nothin major
I duplicates the cap code to her pager
Now i recieves every beat
'cause I'll be damned if my bitch goin be playin me cheap
(Chorus)
Call it what you want but I gotta know
If my bitch fucks around then my bitch gots to go (Repeat 2x)
Week and a half flies by and now I
Can't trust my bitch doin shit
Track her through the mall, the cleaners, and the nail shop
The grocery store, and the health food spot
Dub you trippin I say to myself
'Is she all that?
I'm on my bitch ass like I'm lo jack'
Just hold that
I don't really like when she be callin her best friend
Pull up on the lot in a black Benz
I could smell it homie
It's goin down
These bitches bout to flirt wit some niggas and clown
Followed they ass to the Mo-Mo
Oh no
Damn this shit's for real
Now just imagine how a nigga feal
'cause I been livin wit a hoe
And worse than that a muthafucka didn't know
She got's to go
I hit the chronic 'cause
I'm on a mission
I'm havin visions
Of two dead bitches missin Christmas
I can't take it no more
I cocks my strap ?takes flight?
And kick the fuckin hinges off the door
I skimmed the room with the infared
And finds my bitch and her best friend naked in the water bed
(Chorus)
Now I'm confused
I puts my heat down
Mouth open like a muthafucka takes a seat now (?we's now?)
How long you been fuckin her?
I ain't know yo ass was on cock
Got me thinkin bout ? ?
She said I trust her like you trust me
If you trust we
Then us three could be livin in harmony
I get's to thinkin bout the pussy and the riches
Fuck it I guess I got two down bitches
(Chorus)
(Talking)
Ha yeah
Tell ya about these little stank ass scrags
Ain't shit
I got two of em now
Fuck em
One for this braid right here
One for this braid right here
Gotta lick this middle one
Fuck ya'll

[W.C.]
FUCK MY DADDY, is somethin I've been wantin to say for the longest
I'm givin peace to moms, cause moms was the strongest
Cause daddy abandoned me at a young age
And shoved me and my baby brother my mother's way
And comin home late every night
I used to hear him grabbin momma by the neck, lookin for fights
Lit as a wino, but sick as a psycho
I used to hide under the covers with my eyes closed
Cryin and hopin tonight that daddy didn't trip
Cause momma already need stitches in her top lip
Cause daddy got mad and beat the hell out of her
And throwin chairs against the wall every night, became a regular
I used to pray and hope that daddy would die
Cause over nothin momma's sufferin a swoll up black eye
And at the end of my prayers, cryin myself to sleep
All I could think about was FUCK MY DADDY
A well rounded family, yo I don't know
The way I grew up, wasn't nuthin like The Cosby Show
Pops never gave me no props, just cheap shots
Say the wrong thing and I just might get dropped
Cause I remember times when I asked for a quarter
And pops was on the verge of a voluntary manslaughter
Always screamin about the bills he had to pay
The story of his life, I thought about a runaway
Front for his friends and spendin all his ends
on his women, his dope and alcohol binges
My brother, my mother and me got two's and fews
Secondhand pants, Top Ramen, and holy shoes
It even got so scandalous, pops had me spendin the night
takin graveyard chances
Sleepin in the bed with his girlfriend kids
And I'm scared to tell my momma cause I might not live
I guess that you can say that Poppa was a Rolling Stone
But me I'm just a victim of the plague of the broken home
Another sad face with the sickness
Daddy must die, God is my witness
For doin my mother wrong, and breakin up her happy home
The reason that I wrote this song
is for those who can't or won't, I say it gladly
FUCK MY DADDY!
"Now you know, that you can't tell your momma we came here tonight."
"But that's my moms."
"I don't care, I'm your daddy -- boy you don't be talkin back"
"That ain't right though."
"I SAID you don't talk back to me son, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"
"Yeah but that's my mom though, you can't do that."
"Don't talk back to me boy! Come here, I'll whoop your little ass!"
[W.C.]
Thank you momma for givin birth to me, God knows
you coulda got an abortion, and didn't have to deal with me
I know the last twelve years has been hell
You had two roles to play, momma and daddy as well
I'm sorry for the times I brought trouble home
Without a daddy thought a lot I had to learn on my own
At the young age of nine I start drinkin brews
And I even had to teach myself how to screw
And for my little brother things wasn't no better see
To him I was the closest thing he ever had to daddy
Helped him with his school and then taught him how to squab
Momma wasn't around, cause see she had three jobs
Cause daddy done tracked out, and left us with the bills
Now we eatin Wish burgers, and stale bread, and Skittles
Huh, and now that I look back, I'm glad I was young
Cause nowadays I mighta peeled his cap
Woulda grew up in a crazyhouse or penetentiary
Spendin most of my life, in maximum security
But nah, cause I'll be goin out just like a sucka
When I was young, pops told me that I'd grow to be nuttin
They keep tellin me revenge is a loss so don't sweat
But everytime I think of daddy I think of broke necks
Now, some might say that I'm wrong for speakin the truth
But when you tell the truth you gotta kick the whole scoop
This ain't a diss to every father cause some fathers are cool
This is a message from the Dub, that I had to include
To every kid on the Circle like me, hurtin badly
Put up your middle finger and say, FUCK MY DADDY!

[intro]
Bellin
Strolling with a limp
Sagging hard
Mainly done by L.A street niggas
Bellin
Is not just a casual stroll
But a way of life
A movement
First you take the rag
Crease it
Place it in your back pocket
And bell
But remember
For all you square ass niggas
Rips to the left
Doggs to the right
Not for niggas in tight ass jeans and penny loafers
But highly recommended for nigaas sporting
Khakis, house shoes and locs
[Kokane]
Oh my God
Yeah, we back motherfucker
WC niia, niia, BAAM BAAM!
[WC]
Keep it crackin
I'm sick of all this bullshit yacking
Ya'll done fucked around
and got the Dub reacting
Lo-lows, broughams
House shoes, or roams
Once again its on nigga
It's time to G on
When it comes to gangsta shit
Can't too many fuck with me
Hang with me
or ride to the highest level of ridetivity
One to the neck
Two to the neck
I'm sticking them
Leaving them scarred
Bitch niggas get rode of they yard
Hard
Get off that shit
You lost that shit
See how many streets
While you talk that shit
Fuck who Billboard hanging
And who take you banging and slanging
I'm the hardest nigga in this game
Famin
the only one remaining
It's time for confrontation
The only one that's gonna swing them thangs
Swinging with the Titanium flaming
With the gun safety on F'n
Fuck the whole world loc
I'm bellin
[Chorus]
[Kokane]
Yeah I got the remedy
To make you wanna come and ride with me
You know I keeps it crackin cause it's a must
Cause this the way we bell from dawn to dusk
I'm a keep banging that gangsta ish And none of ya'll niggas can fuck with it
You know I keeps it crackin cause it's a must
Cause this the way we bell form dawn to dusk
[WC]
Sick as they come
Sick as thay come
WC got that bomb shit
that'll numb your tongue
Fucking it up
in my dum-da-da-dumbs
Not a Dump-da-da-dumb
Off that wet one
Chucking up the finger and thumb
Scrap it
Clack-clack it
And toss the liquor
Clip the barrel
And hang out the window
And get off on niggas
Snatch niggas, clap triggers
Leave on the back of the grass niggas
Fuck all you rapping ass niggas
I'm a thank em'
Let my nuts hang
And dick dangle
Come in with the shit that will make you break them ankles
Cause I'm an all-season nigga
Leave yah leaking nigga
Thirsty gutter nigga
Use a first........ nigga
Disappear nigga
We gonna be here
Been shifting gears
And doing this shit for years
Off the liquor though
Really though
Fuck a video
I'm getting in these hoes
Nigga fuck what you yellin
I'm Bellin
[Chorus]
[Kokane]
If you see me saggin
Don't say nothing
It's just the way we bell
When you see these Chucks
You know I don't give a fuck
It's just the way we bell
[WC]
Roll them in
Wrote this song again
Pull them out and let them glide
Hang them high
Put them hankies in the sky
Out of town niggas what you need
Hit me
Get with me
Get tuned in to the realist nigga in this city
And if you came to LA
You never reached out and touched us
Trust us
Then you must have been fucking with bustas
Hell yeah, I said it
I'm a hog in this shit
Cause my before me was none of this walking shit
Keep it real
When I was skipping on Benzos and Navies
Ya'll was in tight ass pants with murphys in your khakis
Ducking
Now all of a sudden
Niggas start super crippin
So nigga taste these slugs
Tuckin
Nigga tuck in your chain and your tail in
And shut the fuck up and make way for these fellas
Nigga, I'm bellin

Intro: WC
Yeah, ain't nothing changed, know what I'm saying?
Still the same old same old, W.C. still in effect
Yo, break it down Jinx
Verse One: WC
Damn, suckers got me picking up my pen again
Swinging on my jock like Tarzan
Looking for a change, hoping my head swoll
Thinking I'm rich cause I made a little video
Shaking my hand, yeah right, now I'm a cool brother
But as soon as I step off, you're calling me a sucker
Mad, because I bust a Benz on Lorenzos
Hanging on the boulevard fronting on the flow show
You know it's funny when you start making money
Every Tom, Dick, and Harry want to be your buddy
The same ones that dissed ya, now it's a list of
First to riff, now they all on your dick, yo
I'm looking at you laughing, popping your lip
Ripping my zipper onstage, can pay the bail with a limp
Y'all don't want to give it up to me now that I'm getting pumped
Run around like Calamine, the same old Dub
Do I know where I come from, who's my friends?
Who's responsible for this little spot that I'm in?
Yo, I see them all playing in my car when I drive by
Telling all my homies "Yo, he ain't that fly"
The beat just cause I made a record the record
So please don't make me better than the next man, erase that gameplan
Cause I'm still down to bust a cap then backslap
Those who pop rap at the mouth like Ex-Lax
And those who wanna test me, step right up, bro
My number's the same, oh by the way, it's in the ghetto
I'm sorry that I can't flaunt the fortune and fame
But when it comes to the Dub (Ain't a damn thing changed)
Verse Two: Coolio
Ain't a damn thing changed, sucker, how could ya figure?
Coolio and Crazy Toons will never sell out, nigga
Sporting khakis and T-shirts, beanies and Starter caps
And land funky raps on the dop tracks
Should I dance on it for a couple of dollars?
Or sell away my soul to put a rope on my collar?
I was taken from the missed of the lost and missing
Rapping on dark road on my way to prison
Stuck me in the studio, put me on the radio
Told me to perpetrate like I was a hero
I ain't with that, Toons got my back
Do I have to use a gat to show you where I'm at?
Or pose with a forty ounce and fake like a killer
With a long black Cack like a small-time dope dealer
Diamonds on my finger and women at my feet
A house that I don't own and no respect on the street
Might be detained, cause I ain't trying
Let me explain, when it comes to Coolio (Ain't a damn thing changed)
Verse Three: WC
Whoever said living in the spotlight is simple as one, two, three
Ha, they must have been sipping on a ?Twizzeline?
Cause man I ain't used to this unusual behavior
Who wants a friendly neighbor?
Girls way back that told me to go to hell
Is sitting backstage, want to go to the motel
MC's that pretending that they was down from the giddy up
Trying to call you by your first name and stuff
Yo, and all these fake promoters stepping to the Circle
Remember how you treated us 12 months ago?
Yo, you didn't know bro, now you want a show
Toons tell 'em what's up (Give it up sucker duck)
Yeah, remember that the capital W told ya
Suckers don't fade me, popping hogging my jock
I keep to myself and I step with the pep
The lyrics of death, tell me how it sounds, G (Cool)
Waord, since I have to prove that I'm the same
And still remain dropping dogs in this rap game
To make it all simple and plain

[ VERSE 1: WC ]
It's that MAAD Circle, lil'-ass loc'ed out
Tick-tick-boom, here to clear the room
Get em like this when I drop number three
Cause ain't nobody bad like me
It's the, it's the rizzapper
You wanna c-c-c-clack, what? Yeah fool, run up
Non-believers who didn't believe us
That we was comin back out, y'all can eat this
Diggidy-diggedy-dick in ya mouth
Cause papa's got a brand new bag here to tag
With the .44 mag that'll Color you Badd
And to you rap critics who said I wouldn't last
I need to jump out the speakers and strangle your ass
Cause never would I let the politics in rap
Or the shady contracts play me out like that
I know you can't stand to see a real loc'ster ride
So let it rain, let it drip fool, dump on ( ? )
[ CHORUS ]
So all you locsters and you hoes
Grab yo khakis and yo locs
It's that nigga from Westside MAAD Circle
Takin over your radio
Nod your head to this here song
You like me, get your straight mob on
[ VERSE 2: WC ]
You shoulda known it don't stop, this is just a taste
So party people play like Xscape
And just 'kick off your shoes and relax your feet'
Bump that brand new Double-U-C
I been spendin the most of my time in the cut
Finessin my skills so one day I could bust
Off a fresh, fresh.. fresh, fresh
The beats that are fresh, fresh
Comin from the wild wild west
But it's got to be different
Than the nor-nor-normal styles that I be dishin
Kickin, stickin, but still grippin
Pop, pop, fizz, fizz
It's 1995 and I'm sick of this shit
And when rappers as they dangle from my jock
Pickin mo' niggas up than jack in a box
It don't stop
[ CHORUS ]
So all you locsters and you hoes
Grab yo khakis and yo locs
It's that nigga from Westside MAAD Circle
Takin over your radio
Nod your head to this here song
You like me, get your straight mob on
This year I'm takin my props
And like my nigga P said it don't stop till the casket drop
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub
Everybody, everybody, here comes the Doub
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub
Everybody, everybody, here comes the Doub
[ VERSE 3: WC ]
Quick, somebody help me out, get the taser gun
Doub's under the sun and it's f-f-f-fun
Here to represent, no better yet, here to claim
That loc'ed out MA-MA-MA-MAAD Circle gang, fool
Marks keep on slippin, slippin -
No wait a minute, dudes, wrong song
You know what, I'ma just give em a touch
Of what? That funk-funk-funky stuff
Niggas imitate, but they can't flip it like this
Nah sit, Boo Boo sit, let go my dick
Cause I've been watchin, watchin, watchin you watchin me
WC and no, my name ain't Winnie
I ain't got a perm muthafucka, but lyrics I got plenty
And when it comes to this I'm rankin at the top
( ? ) on my beach cruiser, puttin in work, it don't stop
[ CHORUS ]
So all you locsters and you hoes
Grab yo khakis and yo locs
It's that nigga from Westside MAAD Circle
Takin over your radio
Nod your head to this here song
You like me, get your straight mob on
You shoulda known it don't stop
The Circle never fakes the funk, so muthafuckas give it up
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub
Everybody, everybody, here comes the Doub
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub
Everybody, everybody, here comes the Doub
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub
Everybody, everybody, here comes the Doub
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub
Everybody, everybody, here comes the Doub
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub

(man)
Hey, nigga, gimme some of them water and chip's, shit
(other man)
lock 'em up, nigga, lock 'em, bullshit
(man)
hey, look, nigga
get out there, nigga
these niggas ain't sho' ta riz-ayd, right
we gon' get in and get out
(other man)
we on a roll, nigga
[continues, indistinct]
[Verse 1: WC]
I'ma walk it down, now
fuckin' wit deez out-a-town niggas
got me watchin' up on my back and strappin'
pistol packin'
who ever thought dem fools would catch on
and we was sellin' rock while up in the back of the broll
see da plan was to make a transaction to match
three calos, for under the zone, a hundred thousand cash
you know da deal, nigga you know da outcome
dub C and C Mac take tha money 'n run
[CJ Mac]
We gettin' close, hot as fuck
burnin' up in his drive
two pace, mirror checkin' doin' sixty-five
I seen the state patrol 5 times, swear to god
he make this stop, better have 9 lives
nigga speak
[Man's Voice]
Where you at?
[CJ Mac]
Close nigga
you just have tha cash right so we can go's, nigga
I never tell no
nigga when I'm comin' through his town
set us up, get a crew, gun his town
[WC]
Fuck that, I dun dis shit befo'
after we twist deez niggas, we gon twist some mo'
(CJ Mac)
Out-a-town nigga havin' a pistal in hand
whatcha paper, you fuckin' wit some jackets, player
shit happens
[Chorus: CJ Mac]
Don't fuck wit a niggas cash
niggas blast, when it come to cash
niggas mash, on dat ass
Don't fuck wit a niggas cash
niggas mash, on dat ass
fo' a niggas cash, niggas blast
[WC second half overlaps]
(T'is da season to be janky falalalala lalalala)
[Verse 2: CJ Mac]
Hits J, sit straight, dey ain't even check
swiss suitcase, jit
we ain't stop to count da cash, nigga
shit, nigga, I remember
It was two a dem gas cans, was fulla straight heata
[WC]
fake twista, took her ass back to da piz-ad
sent some mo crystals back to da liz-ad
to make some mo trick-climbin'-blatant-nigga loot [wooh!]
'cause baby need new shoes and daddy need a coupe
[CJ Mac]
Call my nigga, Fred, yo friend
he set up da link
gave his ass ten-thousand, thanked him n' shit
told him 'Shut the fuck up', niggas try sweating
and have to take his ass out there, he bound to wetting
[WC]
Uh huh, two months passed, I found his ass trashed out
castrated on his porch, with his dick in his mouth
What the fuck? I know these niggas ain't here in L.A.
I went and grabbed the AK n' called my nigga CJ
{[music stops, dial tone] inside ( )= CJ Mac}
(What's crackin'?) Look it's on wit deez niggas (what?)
Hey CJ nigga I just found this nigga Fred fucked up
(slow down, nigga) on the porch (Fred?)
Hey nigga it's goin' down
Hey nigga meet me at cho bitch spot, nigga (what?)
Fuck that, let's bring these in hea
Fuck these niggas!
[Chorus x2]
[Verse 3: CJ Mac]
Goin' 110 on da 110, exit slow
shit my stomach uptight, sumthin' ain't right (fuck that)
How da fuck they found where Fred stay
they ain't never been out there, hold up, what the fuck?!
[WC]
CJ, don't trip, nigga, dey just killed yo bitch
left her bleedin' in the porch wit' screwdriver's in her head
ramshacked the house, took the work and the money
[CJ Mac]
I could see that shit, but why the fuck you so bloody?
[WC]
They took the hundred thousand we stole plus two mo' (right, right)
and if I know that nigga Bo he checked a in mo {motel}
[CJ Mac]
Bo, hard nigga, who parted the game
you didn't know that motherfuckas name!
first you found Fred dead, then you found my bitch wit her wig split
nigga I ain't stupid, you did that shit
[gunshot]
Motherfucka shot me in my shoulda
reached for my strap, and started dumpin' back
{gunshots continue}
[WC]
Nigga, lifes a bitch and then you die
you only get one chance to check, nigga, trust no nigga
shoulda known from the start, ain't no love in my heart
fuck this 50-50 shit, this is where we depart
[CJ Mac]
I'll be damned if I let this nigga walk wit' da dough
kill my hoe, boy, kill my hoe?
Five, fo' rounds, hit him twice, hit him in his stomach
see me vomit blood,
nigga eat slugs!
{gunshots continue}
[WC]
On my knees, I'ma see da bust back, fuck that
somehow I managed, ta raise wit da wicked carriage
ain't no rules to dis shit, we jackers
ain't no love in this game, mothafucka, shit happens
[Chorus x2]
I feel sorry, nigga
just like every dog has his day,
every loc get his nights
I'll be back at ya, my nigga (ain't no thang)
I can't believe yo ass did some shit like that to me, nigga
it ain't nothin' (hu, hu)
it ain't nothin'
It's goin' down
I'ma get that motherfucker

[WC]
You niggaz can't fade this nutty-ass cutthroat Maad Circle villain
Leanin, scheamin in the Gremlin
Sippin on Mak Duk, on my way to Compton
to pick this nigga Coolio up
Two ski masks, on my left a nine
Nigga on my breath, money on my mind (yeah)
You god damn right motherfucker it's on again
Coolio what's the plan?
[Coolio]
It's a motherfuckin come up, nigga load ya gun up
It's gonna be a stick-up, came up on the liquor
You know that bitch that I used to fuck -- named Theresa
(Yeah nigga, with the big ass butt)
Well her brother was a client of mine
Drive some turnaround trips back and forth to Vegas part time (yeah)
Well anyway I got a caper (uh)
And if we pull it off right we can come up on a stack of paper
Here go the plan: me, you, and him
cause the nigga drivin the bus is down with us
Call Crazy Toones and tell him to give you a ride
and drop you off on Manchester and Broadway, at half past five
Since old people don't trust young niggaz none
you gotta be disguised like a senior citizen
Don't worry about escape cause it's OK
I'll be chillin close behind all the motherfuckin way loc
And I don't wanna see you act up
but if anybody trip you better handle that shit
[WC]
Nah man fuck this, this shit sound shady as fuck
You gon' fuck around and have us all stuck motherfucker
[Coolio]
Quit actin like a hoe, and go get yo' fo'-fo' nigga
and let's make some dough, check this:
Nuttin plus nuttin equal none
Fool grab the motherfuckin money and run
[WC] Right come on
Chorus: WC
Diamond in the back, sun roof cracked
Tank on E, niggaz low on cash, oohh-woo
(some R&B; sample) "Straight jackin"
Chorus
[WC]
So now it's goin accordin to plan
I'm on the back of the bus dressed like a senior citizen
Sittin on a bus full of old motherfuckers
Wavin they bibles singin, "I love Jesus!"
And now my concious is fuckin with me
cause I'm about to rob the entire gospel choir
And I ain't askin no questions
Whoever don't reply, I'm sendin em hollow point blessings
Cause I was told at seven on the dot
No matter the spot, to execute the plot
And my watch read 6:59
So aww shucky ducky, quack quack it's yo' time
Hands in the motherfuckin air! *pop pop pop*
This is a jack nigga, and I'm startin from the back
Necklaces, anklets to bracelets
to the Rolexes, I'm takin all they shit, huh
I had em shakin, steady fadin, money breakin
fillin my bag up with bacon
Lookin out the window at Coolio
yellin out a car on the side of the bus, "Nigga c'mon!"
Yo, we gon' handle this loc
I told him like Janet Jackson, I had it under control
But really I was bein greedy takin too long
So peep the next verse but first the chorus of song goes
Chorus
[WC]
Standin in the middle of the aisle
A rag full of papes and jewelry, bout to make my escape
Coolio wavin, "C'mon nigga hurry up
before one-time swoop, and you get us all stuck!"
Aight so now I'm on my way to the front
Bus driver, pull to the side or I might have to dump
He was down with us on our shady operation
So he pulled the bus over with no hesitation
But that's when the drama kicked in
"Motherfucker take that!" *blam* Damn I got shot in the back
Looked up and who did I see?
This bitch-made ass bus driver puttin slugs in Dub C
Twistin afflicted, burnin like syphillis
Lookin at death and I'm coughin up flesh
Ran to the car, "Coolio I've been hit" "Huh?"
"I told you the shit sound like a motherfuckin twist!"
[Coolio]
Wait, what's wrong, what the FUCK GOIN ON?!
This nigga must be trippin, we gon' have to kill him
[WC] Cool here come nigga grab your gun
[Coolio] Alright, I'm gonna have me some fun
Forty-four in the right hand, nine in the left
So I put twelve rounds in his motherfuckin chest
I don't know if it's yo' birthday, but bitch here's yo' gift
That's what you get for the twist, yea
Chorus 2X

I roll my good, In my Khakies
Throw my hood up, keep it OG
You know me man, I got the hood with me,
I got the hood with me.
But these b*tches get this money,
Got my thang up, keep it on me, you know me man.
I got the hood with me, I got the hood with me.
Dub-Cuda, Lick get a get wrap
?with the wall flow, shake up the audience
Like my dick walking in the Dog show,
Like?all over?hang it?.
Swag it?to the king macho
?... to the game macho
Don?t f*ck with me?I?m in the zone like a zip lock.
Stay G'ed up, out to get my green up.
Blue Chevy, cap back and money like a big truck.
Bad b*tch on my side, ass like Alicia Keys?
Everyt time Nicky?
Chorus:
I roll my good, In my Khakies
Throw my hood up, keep it OG
You know me man, I got the hood with me,
I got the hood with me.
But these b*tches get this money,
Got my thang up, keep it on me, you know me man.
I got the hood with me, I got the hood with me.
Breath the fresh air, Yes, yes, Maylay nigga, Big Swang
And I came with the Connect Gang members, and uhh
It ain?t bright if it ain?t light shit nigga he ain't tight,
You got it fucked up.
It?s all or nothin', be ball or bustin',
Till they put me in the coffen of the car and I'm coffed in.
And to my next opponent, don?t even best of?.
I?m so West! (Hell Yeah! ) But no extra's on it.
La Dodgers, AK, Choppers
And the kids at the (grace?) waintin' before they momma's
So I grab the hat, yeah you can bet ya that
Capital CA man, and check the Tat
Recognise by the realist niggers give it up
Weather they be Crip or Blood, and the one the women love.
Angelino... she?s repect by niggers?
Chorus:
I roll my good, In my Khakies
Throw my hood up, keep it OG
You know me man, I got the hood with me,
I got the hood with me.
But these b*tches get this money,
Got my thang up, keep it on me, you know me man.
I got the hood with me, I got the hood with me.
I?m an old nigga on the Porche, way to bigg,
It's a shame how this nigga influensed them kids.
Got 'em out there hustlin? and doin' the shit.
And he don't do shit instead of scracht on his (?)
And it?s not good that the hood is under the scale
It?s wonder why niggas is under the jail,
While they treat this motherfucker like the rest of the (?)
Cause I know what?s happening like we?re running (rogg?)
I?m a captain left hand nigga in charge,
Pull Are Force One, up out the garage,
I'm the grand (?)You?re part of lodge.
You mortals better pay, respect to the God.
You can cuss more, I'm out rush more,
Now you can seel more, You're still Algore
Nigga I?m the president, you?re just the resident,
In my gangsta world, and you late with the fucking rent!

"This afternoon we want to talk about"
"Now I want you brothers to dig where we coming from"
[WC]
Five yers ago when I was in high school
No bills to pay, I used to say to myself "Life is cool"
I had a roof over my head and a part-time job
Slanging at OB's birdstand
Washington High was the school I attended
Til '87 graduation came and I wasn't with it
Kicked out the house at the age of 18
No money for college, mmm, how should I handle things?
I tried to go the so-called right way
And went to a JC but I wasn't getting paid
I'm working at a chicken stand now with the chicken
With a spring at the top of my hat getting clowned
I gotta pay my rent but my job ain't cutting it
So now I'm drinking gin saying "Here's my alternative"
To either keep doing what I'm doing, don't trip
Or go and buy gats y'all and come up on a grip
So like anybody else I went and bought a gun
Pulling burgs at night and now I'm counting my funds
Three times a day and I drive a coup on danas
Cruising through the alley bumping on "Hi" to players
Yo, you can say what you want but I was taught on the streets
That if a brother didn't work, then he didn't eat
"You don't work, you can't eat"
[Coolio]
Peep this, something kind if for weakness
Focus on the park and watch how I freak this
Subject for survival, got to stay alive
I gotta eat so I do or die
Not a full-time crook but I was born right
So if I want to eat, sometimes I got to jack
So jack I will and go get some presidents
A foot in the ground and the other on an oil slick
Money ain't everything but either is brokeness
Give me a knife cause I can't live off happiness
Once a brother said I can't work for the white kind
Standing on the corner in a soup line
Said he's too black, too strong, ain't done nothing yet
Waiting on the fifth for his government relief check
Humming and bumming, most hate to see him coming
And every first and 15th, these strongs on his life
But a hustle is a hustle and a meal is a meal
That's why I'm real and I ain't afraid to steal
Straight from the street, backed up by a funky beat
If you don't work, OG, then you don't eat
"You don't work, you can't eat" (Repeat 2x)
[Ice Cube]
Ayo, I want y'all to meet a nigga from the Lench Mob
He gaffled for his meals (McDonald's is my spot)
Ayo Jay Dee, kick some shit for the Maad Circle, G
[Jay Dee]
If you don't work, you don't eat, need I say more?
Cause I'm a kick my rhymes in abundant while you stay poor
Since I was 14 I raised myself
I built a roof over my head and then I went for self
I sold cooked-up rock, made my way through school
I'm not saying you should do it cause it ain't too cool
Kicking ???, playing to start your back
Talking about that bullshit prize, you slay me right?
And you other motherfuckers out here banging for change
Need to wise up and seek personal gain
Or maintain some type of pain
Cause they don't give away hot lunches out here in L.A.
Yo peace to the Dub and the Maad Circle
For giving me the chance to let the rhyme just flow
So you can (So you can either sell dope or get your ass a job)
Jay Dee (I'd rather roll with the Lench Mob)
"You don't work, you can't eat"
[MC Eiht]
Eiht is stepping from the city down under
And I'm robbing more punk fools blind like Stevie Wonder
Ain't no punching a clock, I ain't with it
For a quarter an hour I make the shit every minute
And please, don't even let me catch a brother slipping
He'll be short, shorter than short
With my hands around his troat
Fool, come off the chain and bracelet
I know it's wrong but face it
A brother like me won't win the lottery
Ain't no faking when it's time to bring home the bacon
Cause I was taught get what you're gonna get quick
And don't get gaffled in the mix
So I guess I'll keep stacking, breaking the law
Checking a fool, wrecking and breaking his jaw
Gyeah, that's life in the Compton streets
Homeboy you don't work, homeboy you don't eat
"You don't work, you can't eat"
[WC]
This record was put together by Jay Dee, Coolio, and the W
Eight, Chilly Chill, and DJ Crazy Toons
Sic brothers out to get paid cause
Nowadays you got to go for yourself or go broke
I'm living day by day cause you see the future ain't promised
So save that drama for your mama
And make sure you're out of my path when I'm on the creep tip
Or have your first name changed to R.I.P.

It's been a minute that I've been sittin' up in this cell
Thinkin' of many ways that I can get paid escapin' jail
My life is like a football game, I'm movin' the chains
Tryin' to score so I could maneuver the Range
I hear police callin' my name, I ball in no lane
Tryin' to hit the wall, make the ghetto hall of fame
It's third and long, got a lot of yards to gain
I'm federal, youse a misdemeanor, you small change
It's that, S W A N G affiliate
From the penitentiary to the club, love I'm sendin' it
Turn me out and throw it up and get your boogie on
And let me see those fingers in the sky if you feelin' it
I'm sick and ain't no curin' me, maximum security
Can't stop my back bumper draggin' through your community
Process me, lock me down, level me hard kid
I still come out swingin' like Ron Artest, nigga ha ha
Is it the concrete or the walls?
Maybe it's the bars, might be the guards
Nigga this is lockdown, lock 'em down, lock 'em down
This is lockdown, lock 'em down, lock 'em down
Is it the concrete or the walls?
Maybe it's the bars, might be the guards
Nigga this is lockdown
I'm 'bout to whip yo' ass mayne, ha ha
Nigga the bang bang get up
Skip skippin' through the lane, swang, look at Dub
Swangin', still feelin 'em all, I can't wait to get out
When I touch-down nigga, I'ma turn shit out
Looka there, biddy-by-by, buh-by-by beddy-bye nigga
Lights out, Dub and Nelly 'bout to shut the lights off
C-walkin' on the industry, spittin' with all my energy
Dedicated to my niggaz in the penitentiary
Ladies bounce to this, sip Cris', get drunk to this
Refs walks to this, dawgs thump to this
On my mind is my fetti, itchin' for the day
That I can parole and jack the nose on a Chevy
Three-wheel to the St. Lou' and connect with Nelly
Jump in the Escalade on them deuce-four Pirelli's, nigga
Money is freedom and freedom is cash
And anything between me and my freedom I'll whup an ass, ha ha
Is it the concrete or the walls?
Maybe it's the bars, might be the guards
Nigga this is lockdown, lock 'em down, lock 'em down
This is lockdown, lock 'em down, lock 'em down
Is it the concrete or the walls?
Maybe it's the bars, might be the guards
Nigga this is lockdown
I'm 'bout to whip yo' ass mayne, ha ha
Yeah, Dub stay chuckin' the pavement, I'm anti-general populated
Hood related, the industry most hated
'Cause I ball greedy and rhyme for mine, c'mon I'm willin' to die for mine
C'mon, while haters hate from the sideline
I'm like Fabolous, I make you 'Breathe' hard
Leavin' ya bleedin' and scarred, PC'd up on the sensitive knee guard
Dub Central ain't no surrender, spit for repetitive offenders
Facin' D.A.'s with public defenders nigga, ha ha
Is it the concrete or the walls?
Maybe it's the bars, might be the guards
Nigga this is lockdown, lock 'em down, lock 'em down
This is lockdown, lock 'em down, lock 'em down
Is it the concrete or the walls?
Maybe it's the bars, might be the guards
Nigga this is lockdown

Intro: WC
Wessyde-fa-life-in-ya!!
("Throwin up the W" -- Ice Cube) 2X
Yeah, I'm with this, what we throwin up?
("Throwin up the W" -- Ice Cube)
All you busta ass niggaz out there
I got my motherfuckin homeboys in the house ("Throwin up the W")
My nigga Ice Cube ("Throwin up the W"), Mack 10
Back to set the record straight for all these busta ass niggaz
who trip, this how we do it nigga
Chorus: WC
Front back side to side
We be givin it up, till the day we die
Niggaz hit me up, I'ma have ta erupt
So motherfucker West Up!
(repeat 2X)
Verse One: WC
Nigga clear the lane, here I come, once again
With this, gangsta click, droppin this, gangsta shit
Strictly for the riders who ride us I gotta WestSider
rhymer for them niggaz that's sittin on them Dayton wires
Pump the bass, hit the switch
Cause Ice Cube, Mack 10, and Dub-C, back up in this b-i-itch
Straight hoodsta for life, ain't no lookin back
Ink in my flesh, WestSide tattered on my chest
Walkin with the shadow of death
Through the land of the skanless, South Central Los Angeles
Home of the Crips and the Bloods
Where even the strongest niggaz is drug through the mud
And visitors from outta town best to stay in Hollywood
You get that tourist ass ganked strollin through my hood
West coast till the casket drop
I be throwin it up, so motherfucker West Up!
Verse Two: Mack 10
It's gun ho Mack one-oh please you can't fuck wit deez
Ice Cubez and Dub-Ceez is my G'z
And hip-hop, top three niggaz the new bosses
Never slippin cause we flosses, packin Nina Rosses
Nigga, thought you knew how we do it
Ain't a Damn Thing Changed, always on them thangs
forever and a day, so back up, gimme room, don't neglect
Just respect and everything I can't check I wreck
Now you can cross out the bustas and snitches
Shit only killers hootchie bitches and hot hydraulic switches allowed
On the turf where the real hogs dwell
Sewed up the hood, the fattest bolas on the block for sale
Inglewood City, the throne I call home
Niggaz be so bright, you might need your locs on
to bail through, it's fin you're in with Mack 10
And I gotta confess up, nigga this West Up! for life
Chorus
Verse Three: Ice Cube
Now I got ta show you how the West coast rocks
No razor blades, in my mouth, just a glock
And I'm hittin you up, with that W-S
The sun, rises in the East, but it sets in the West
No gold teeth, you gets a wreath
So hand me the goodies, stockin mask, no hoodies
Christmas day, I'm in a tre
While some of you niggaz got the robe reindeer and a sleigh
We don't call it five-oh, we call it one time
It's my life my life my life my life, in the sunshine!
One nine weighs a ton
How the fuck you think that the West was won?
Now shit can be squashed over a forty ounce of backwash
No jokes, the land of locs and hundred spokes
In the East, we can be brothers
But when you come to L.A., watch your motherfuckin colors
West Up! nigga
Chorus
Verse Four: WC
Give it up, give it up
Like the nigga James Brown, me and my niggaz are puttin it down
So bustas be wary cause see we represent the city
Where niggaz caught slippin is left with they brains drippin
City of the Angels, more like a concrete jungle
full of macks Cadillacs and crack sacks
I pledge allegiance to the shit till I die
[Mack 10] So let the five-twenty slide and put it down from the WestSide
Chorus
WestSide!!!

[Ice Cube]
1, 2, 3, 4
Get you a bitch up on the floor
You gotta get up and get down (WALK!)
You gotta get up and get down (WALK!)
[WC]
To the Weeeeeeest, MARCH
Bang, crease the starch
Uh oh, here we go again
Off the chain, that Dub SC gang
State yo name
[Ice Cube]
Ice Cube motherfucker
[WC]
What's your name
[Mack 10]
Mack 10 motherfucker
[WC]
Well bang on, swang on
Cause on mine I'ma G on, Dub C let a scene on
Get my green on, with my white sling on
Weather my rag in, with my khakis cuffed and dragging
Three wheels, make the heat squeal
This Westcoast shit is the shit that we built
Who wanna bust with or fuck with him, and confess
Y'all can't fuck with it, I'm out the roof with it, bang loose with it
Dub C, from that Dub SC
Fo sho to make ya peeps slang off the cheese man
[Chorus]
Walk, walk
Niggas let me see you walk
Walk, walk
Bitches let me see you walk - 2x
To the Weeeeeeest, MARCH
Calling all cars, niggas look hard
Near park cars, after dark
Get toe start
[Ice Cube]
Ice Cube motherfucker, I represent this
Don't mistake the masked up for the apprentice
All you bitch ass niggas are defenseless
Like a Catholic priest, and bout ten kids
It's sunday school, I run you fools
You ain't gone do shit
I got the flip shit, to plant
Spit it like I'm gone spit it
Niggas wanna get it, but they won't admit it
I'm connected and committed
All the way bided, while you bullshitted
I'm on exhibit, like a pitbull off the chain
Motherfuckers gone flip out, ropes get ripped out
Niggas gone trip out, crip out, get a four-fifth out
Get bout, with a brickhouse, with my dick out saying fuck ya
My whole career, I kept it gangsta and hustla
[Chorus]
[Mack 10]
It's for the ghetto and the gutter everytime I spit
For niggas that walk off that funkadelic shit
I just might go psycho, and grab the automatic
And let one off for the gangbang addicts
Cause I'm westside connected like a hand in the glove
And I'm the gangsta rap nigga that the D-Boys love
Hopped out braided and valetd in the front of the club
I hit the do' niggas speak, I hit em up with a dub
And even on the east coast, I rep Hoo Bangin
Iced out, creased khakis with a red flag hanging
Fin to bust a bitch to give head, that's eating the jaw
And if I let my hair down, all the hoes all hoes
Get ya hood, ya polo, ya tribe, ya ?
And ain't no niggas in the game that can beat this group
Mack 10 and Connect, is the hood I claim
We do the damn thang, and it's off the chain
To the Weeeeeeest, MARCH
Calling all cars, niggas look hard
Near park cars, after dark
Get toe start - 2x
[Chorus - 2x]

Featuring: Ice Cube, Maylay
I roll my good, In my Khakies
Throw my hood up, keep it OG
You know me man, I got the hood with me,
I got the hood with me.
But these b*tches get this money,
Got my thang up, keep it on me, you know me man.
I got the hood with me, I got the hood with me.
Dub-Cuda, Lick get a get wrap
?with the wall flow, shake up the audience
like my dick walking in the Dog show,
like ?all over?hang it ?.
Swag it ?to the king macho
?..to the game macho
Don?t f*ck with me ?I?m in the zone like a zip lock.
Stay G'ed up, out to get my green up.
Blue Chevy, cap back and money like a big truck.
Bad b*tch on my side, ass like Alicia Keys ?
Everyt time Nicky ?
Chorus:
I roll my good, In my Khakies
Throw my hood up, keep it OG
You know me man, I got the hood with me,
I got the hood with me.
But these b*tches get this money,
Got my thang up, keep it on me, you know me man.
I got the hood with me, I got the hood with me.
Breath the fresh air, Yes, yes,Maylay nigga, Big Swang
And I came with the Connect Gang members, and uhh
It ain?t bright if it ain?t light shit nigga he ain't tight,
You got it fucked up.
It?s all or nothin', be ball or bustin',
Till they put me in the coffen of the car and I'm coffed in.
And to my next opponent, don?t even best of ?.
I?m so West! (Hell Yeah!) But no extra's on it.
La Dodgers, AK, Choppers
And the kids at the (grace?) waintin' before they momma's
So I grab the hat, yeah you can bet ya that
Capital CA man, and check the Tat
Recognise by the realist niggers give it up
Weather they be Crip or Blood, and the one the women love.
Angelino ..she?s repect by niggers ?
Chorus:
I roll my good, In my Khakies
Throw my hood up, keep it OG
You know me man, I got the hood with me,
I got the hood with me.
But these b*tches get this money,
Got my thang up, keep it on me, you know me man.
I got the hood with me, I got the hood with me.
I ?m an old nigga on the Porche, way to bigg,
It's a shame how this nigga influensed them kids.
Got 'em out there hustlin? and doin' the shit.
And he don't do shit instead of scracht on his (?)
And it?s not good that the hood is under the scale
It?s wonder why niggas is under the jail,
While they treat this motherfucker like the rest of the (?)
Cause I know what?s happening like we?re running (rogg?)
I?m a captain left hand nigga in charge,
pull Are Force One, up out the garage,
I'm the grand (?)You?re part of lodge.
You mortals better pay, respect to the God.
You can cuss more, I'm out rush more,
Now you can seel more, You're still Algore
Nigga I?m the president, you?re just the resident,
In my gangsta world, and you late with the fucking rent!

This is Los Angeles, gang capital of the nation
Gang capital of the nation, this is Los Angeles
I was raised in the hood called what the fuck, nigga
W.C, ya better duck, nigga, fuck me, you're out of luck, nigga
This is Los Angeles, this is Los Angeles
I was raised in the hood called what the fuck, nigga
W.C, ya better duck, nigga, fuck me, you're out of luck, nigga
This is Los, this is Los Angeles
This shit don't stop, I'm still stackin' my cash
Out in the backyard with niggaz hidin' crack in they ass
It's gettin' kinda hot but I ain't leavin' the spot
?Coz don't nobody give a fuck if I'm eatin' or not, nigga
South Central, the gangbang capital
Where gun fire's ramped, the one time be gafflin'
Murder is a headline
Half an ounce of chronic is a misdemeanor
One gram of hard is fed' time
The name of the game is survival
Keep the thang on me like a preacher do a Bible
Fuck unity, ain't no motherfuckin' one love
Crips killin' Crips, nigga, Bloods killin' Bloods
Niggaz tellin', gotta stay outta dodge
On the stand y'all be singin' like Mary J. Blige
But I'ma stay cockin' my pistol
Goin' hard in the paint, niggaz can't stop my dribble
I was raised in the hood called what the fuck, nigga
W.C, ya better duck, nigga, fuck me, you're out of luck, nigga
This is Los Angeles, this is Los Angeles
I was raised in the hood called what the fuck, nigga
W.C, ya better duck, nigga, fuck me, you're out of luck, nigga
This is Los, this is Los Angeles
Gang capital of the nation, gang capital of the nation
This is Los Angeles, this is Los Angeles
I was raised in the hood called what the fuck, nigga
W.C, ya better duck, nigga, fuck me, you're out of luck, nigga
This is Los Angeles, this is Los Angeles
Out the belly of CA, hated by the D.A.
Skatin' in a '6-trey drinkin' on E&J;
Everything will C okay
As I turn this bottle for my niggaz the old way
South Central L.A. where every day
The LAPD ghetto bird be yellin' freeze on the PA
You know they wanna lock us away, they laughin' away
While we killin' each other, the blacks and the eses
Fuck how much money you make, they gon' hate
Ballin' ass nigga, they gon' still treat ya like O.J.
The stereotypes don't go away
Little nigga, nice car, where the kilos lay?
The po-po wanna send us where the P.O.'s play
Thinkin' we all get our money the ?Carlito's Way?
Charles Manson can kill and live to see another day
But if you're black like Tookie they gon' steal you away
I was raised in the hood called what the fuck, nigga
W.C, ya better duck, nigga, fuck me, you're out of luck, nigga
This is Los Angeles, this is Los Angeles
I was raised in the hood called what the fuck, nigga
W.C, ya better duck, nigga, fuck me, you're out of luck, nigga

1 for the money, 2 for the streets
3 for the niggas with the gangsta-ass beats
A .45, cause I'm up to no good
6 plus 4 plus 1 for the hood
Steppin outside in my fresh K Swiss
Khakis on crizzack, t-shirt on thick
Jumped in my ride, and I'm leanin to the side
An hour rollin west on the 105
Got off on Crenshaw, here to conjure the 20th
Bumpin the oldies, lookin for the muthafuckin homies
Cause it's the weekend, ain't no sleepin
Hoodrats and dub sacks is what I'm seekin
Moved out the hood a couple of years ago
But still I can't let it go
Like bomb cock, it's got me comin back for mo'
Nigga, my neighborhood, a/k/a the Asphalt Killing Fields
I can't stay
I just can't stay away
Now as I cruise by the park, niggas hit me up
And since I'm true to mine, nigga, I'm givin it back up
Shit, I gives a fuck, nigga, this is straight
H-double o-d-s-t-a all mutthafuckin dizzay
Hit the curve on the bend
Jack the ass up, hung a left, now I'm cruisin up Wilton
Beatin, bass beatin, speakers screamin
Leanin, steady leanin, peepin the scene, and
Scoop teens in jeans, tip off the hat
Nigga, where's the ho's at, where's the ho's at?
I hear the party's tonight at Terminal Island
But first I'm steppin to Steven's for some chili juice fries, and
Now we on our way to the spot
16 batteries, 4 pumps, you tell me if this shit'll pop
Too old for this - never
Even if my pubic hairs were grey
I can't stay away
I just can't stay away
There's no place like home
There's no place like home
Can't stay away from the hood too long
Pulled at a party, and I'm hittin a switch
Because my shit it hot, hoes all on my dizznick
Jealous niggas callin me out
Now what's this all about?
Muthafuckas pullin they money out
But they don't wanna see me, nigga, I'm showin off chrome
40 inch a lift, fool, gettin my clown on
One lift, two lift, look, now I'm standin it up
Backin niggas up while I'm hittin the square dumps
Damn, it musta been a full moon
Cause tonight I was actin a muthafuckin fool
Till the party got turned out, and niggas started bustin
So we headed back to the hood, lookin for somethin else to do
But that's when one-time jacked and pulled us over
And took me to jail for a warrant back in October
But the county's so fool, I be out in three days
Right back at it again, I can't stay a...
I can't stay away

*beep*
Front, back, side to side
We be givin it up, until the day we DIE!
It's on!
Yeah baby I'm down here at Homey's Hydraulics
gettin my shit juicted UP!
Yeah I wants to be in one of them there videos
This Grandma
I'm Audi, seventeen
Nah fuck that, tabaow, I'm out!

[WC]
Nineteen-ninety-eight, damn I can't believe it
Whoever thought, throughout the drama, we'd live to see it
So many of us done lost lives to the streets
As we reminisce I'm pourin liquor for the deceased
Thinkin bout the times that I spent with many of em
Hopin that the Lord let me see the millenium
Trapped in this ghetto main, seekin better days
Fightin for my conscience, tryin to shake these wicked ways
I know it's wrong but it's hard to change
All my life, all I ever knew was hustle and game
Lookin for answers ever since I was a adolescent
Faced with rejection, early age stressin
But now ten years later with doodoo respect
I'm bustin million dollar raps and six digit checks
Showin love to my peeps and my love don't change
Here's a toast to you fakes, huh, here's to better days
[Ron Banks]
Might sound strange, but I just can't run away
I can't run, run, it might sound strange
but I just can't run away
I can't run, no, run away
[WC]
Touch a meal ticket, shake a spot for good
Never, I still got love for the neighborhood
And even though now it's infested with gunplay
on most days like Bootsy I can't stay away
Cause if I shook like y'all shook on me
Then whose gon' stay and guide the way for the lil homies?
I can't turn my head on my folks
so I stay visible in these streets and try to give hope
Born in the ghetto, raised in the ghetto
Got love for the ghetto, I can't forget the ghetto
How come everytime we get some change in our can
we run away and try to move out as far as we can?
I know that jealousy's the devil's greed but you worse
than a devil when you turn your back on these young G's
Now feel every word that I say, hear my cry
as I struggle out of thirst and search for better days
[Ron Banks]
Might sound strange, but I just can't run away
I can't run, run, run away!
Said I just can't run away
I can't run, run, run away
No I just can't run away
I can't run, run, runnnnnn away!
[WC]
Another day another dollar, it feels good to look around
and see I'm surrounded by real riders
Childhood comrades I ran with for years
Shared the same beer and tears over the same peers
Player haters swearin that all we all G's
off each others strength with these, regulates the same cheese
No jealousy we all family like Sister Sledge
Lace each other with game, so I can spin beer cans
Watch our kids grow together, as we get old together
Loc I mean this, let no one come in between this
Keep our business among us, behind doors and eyes closed
on those we consider as foes
Outsiders never exposed to your hustle
Plus I'm, never been one likely to trust em
No negative association, just dedication
to watch our paper sprout like this bud mutation
[Ron Banks]
Might sound strange, but I just can't run away
I can't run, run, run away!
No I just can't run away
I can't run, I can't runnnnnnn away!
No I just can't run away

(feat. Christ Bearer, E-40, P. Dot, The Reverend William )
[Chorus: P. Dot]
When them guns goes off, we be ready for war
When them guns goes off, bitches hit the floor
When them guns goes off, and them sirens roar
Better get that money, and be out the door
[W.C.]
Racket, racket, comin' out of the back end
Dead at you, he throwin' the hot lead at you
Swang affiliate, X.O. sip, a gold getter
With the rest to gather, my cold killer
It's 'Me Against the World' like 2Pac
And like Biggie, I'm 'Ready to Die' for what you got
Got a crew with killas behind me, I'm grimey
I'm one of the big body, blowin' cushions where you can find me
For figures, we bust triggers, who could fuck with us?
Dub, E-40, Christ Bearer, plus RZA
Stick you with the Blade, we gots to get paid
And for the moolah, we intertwine like French braids
And I can't fight the feeling like one way
When it comes down to this gangsta shit and gun play
For the loot, we compute it, quick to shoot it
So hit the switch, punk blew it, and bang the music
[Hook: P. Dot (The Reverend William Black)]
I don't care what it takes, we gon' make it
They say the chains too strong for us to break it
Willing to do what it takes for us to make it
And we can overcome anything we faced with
(We are soldiers after all, down by honor we won't fall
After all, all, all, all, all....)
[Christ Bearer]
When them guns go off, bitches hit the floor
Or then forty four slugs gonna hit you, ho
I don't care what it takes, I pull out a gear
Fuck the snakes, and Kurtis Blow with The Breaks off
Artie Murphy and the Petty Coat Junction
Get two thirty off the head with cold dumplings
Niggaz jump when the AK bark
Crystal grip pump, make the gun niggaz spark
You dig? Niggaz ready for war
Been carryin' the world for so long, it ain't heavy no more
And even when the sirens roar, I taught the violence gore to start firing more
And when we run out of bullets, and you still want static?
I grab the three eighty and pull out the automatic
We better get the money, for shootin' Mossbergs and Beretta's
Niggaz ain't shit funny, when it comes to a brawl
Suckin' Northstar, trippin' in
Guns go off, y'all know y'all strippin'
[Hook: P. Dot (The Reverend William Black)]
Willing to do what it takes for us to make it
And we can overcome anything we faced with
(We are soldiers after all, down by honor we won't fall
After all, all, all, all, all....)
[E-40]
Look out peon, we might of lost the battle, but we won the war
I grab a bullet, travel, bodies hit the floor
Can't be scared of your shadow, you gotta have heart
Killas on my soil, will turn off the lights and park
Get out the car, unlock, fill out the chopper and let it chop
Walk off like nothing happened, give a fuck bout a cop
Touch you with the Blade, take off your toupee
Put my dirt in your glocks, sometimes I do my dark in the day
My momma didn't raise no sick, she raised a beast
And I can't rest til my enemies rest in peace
The bigger they are, the harder they fall
Run up on me, I'ma knock the hell outta y'all
My back against the ball, strappin' and jackin', I'm puttin' hands on 'em
One hitter, quitter, bob & weavin', karate stance on 'em
Dance on 'em, ran on 'em, and land on 'em
Put my brand on 'em, stand on 'em, because I can on 'em
[Chorus]
[Hook]

Nigga that shit coming together
Like sweaty ass cheeks, nigga
Keep it gangsta y'all
Keep it gangsta y'all
My niggaz thug out, you getting drugged out
These bitches getting loc'ed out
When we smoke out, 'cause we chromed out
About to bomb out
Here ye, here ye, calling all the hawgs
Fresh outta the whole tank, bouncin' up the walls
Dub-cee, the bandanna president, with the gauge on the ghetto
Rollin' through y'all residents
Runnin' the scene this is the king of the cars
Thugged out baby in my new busta's
Gangstas, all of them gangstas, none of them let me see up
Ridaz throw ya heaterz up
Ladies, OG'z, sorry that I've been gone
But now I'm back to get my walk on
Swang with the game as I reach out and touch ya
Turn the cup up and get ignorant on this motherfucker
Mayday, mayday, back in charge
Calling out cars, calling out cars
Dip, skip through the lane with the bang, bang, bang, jangle
Hoppin' out the SS workin' all them angles
Dub-shiest deep the scrilla, and I've got my homeboy
Hell yeah, the motherfucking villain
1 to the 2 to the 3 to the, hello
Look at these g'z working these fake ass sopranos
Here come the Villain with another heater
With motherfucking Dub nigga in the two-seater
On my nuts while I west west y'all
Grab that microphone and I test test y'all
Villian baritone be like all over y'all
Who wanna ball with that Black nigga Ren?
Like the Don Mega I'm supreme hustling
Dub-cee, give a fuck if these bitches don't love me
I wanna bang, I wanna ride
I wanna slang, from the side, do it now
It's do or die, we can ball till the wheels fall off
And let these motherfuckers know they gotta peel us off
I wanna bang, I wanna ride
I wanna slang, from the side, do it now
It's do or die, we can ball till the wheels fall off
And let these motherfuckers know they gotta peel us off
Gangsta
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
Upon 'em again and I'm er running 'em again, look at it
With da-da-day, with da-da-day
Dub rock it, let your flag hang from your back pocket
Draw on 'em, on 'em, on 'em can't none of 'em
Eat with me, eat my style but y'all can't get rid of me
I heard y'all C-Walking now, yeah who taught you?
What you could say who?
Nigga why I oughta smack all the spit out of you
Beat the shit out of you, get at 'em dumping, stomping
Dippin' in the 600, saggin' in my overalls blunted
Finger and thumb it, quick run
This gangsta shit Dub-Cee runnin'
Here son, steady pumping I come through punking
Y'all think y'all rollies, shooting them high styles like Kobe
So shut up and kneel to these West side parolees
And pass the blunt, 'cause none of y'all can hold it
We got the niggaz
(We got the bitches)
We got the killaz
(We got the riches)
We got the dealers
(We hit the switches)
We got every fucking thing you want
And we can get it punk ass nigga, if we don't
We got the niggaz
(We got the bitches)
We got the killaz
(We got the riches)
We got the dealers
(We hit the switches)
We got every fucking thing you want
And we can get it punk ass nigga, if we don't
Who that nigga that you fucking with?
When you want to hear some motherfucking nigger shit
Call the villain and I'll bring hot lyric
Waltonville to hit your bitch nigga ren with it
Y'all need to quit it
This shit legendary, fuck around
With it and yo mama get buried
Your first born and that bitch you just married
Who give a fuck pop that baby, she just carried
Hubbin' all black like my fucking skin tone
How the fuck you gon' talk about the villain, you a clone
Bitin' every time you bust, who gave all y'all balls to cuss?
Weak motherfuckers better say us
So if it ain't Ruff, it ain't my shit
Might a bit mad at the bitch that ate my dick
Hate my clique, bitch-man 'cause I won't hit
A nigga that I ain't fucking wit'
I wanna bang, I wanna ride
I wanna slang, from the side, do it now
It's do or die, we can ball till the wheels fall off
And let these motherfuckers know they gotta peel us off
Gangsta
Please believe it, please believe it
Please believe it, please believe it
Please believe it, please believe it
Please believe it, please believe it

Ha-ha, yeah
Will I make it to see tomorrow
Ain't no tellin
This one right here, for all the riders
No matter what side you on
Peep game
Welcome to the killing fields
Nigga, the home of the G's
Land of the nymphos and murderers
Still G's and never C's
Careful of what the jaw breakers
Paper chase, parole piss test takers
To make us all the roof makers
Playas, best to keep your crew tight, and game in check
'cause haters it's getting harder and harder to protect
I be peepin the animosity, how these niggas be watchin me
Ready to catch me slippin so that they can cut the glock on me
Gots to be clever, when now they grindin for your cheese
'cause when it be comin to drama, my city's under siege
Watch who you're talkin to to, and keep your eyes on em
'cause the closest nigga to ya is the nigga with wise on em
I rise on em, so now they label me a menace
But they don't understand the wicked shit that I done witnessed
187's, 211's to drivebys
While most niggas divin for the Z-25, come on
[Chorus:]
Walk with me
As we journey through the land of the C's and the B's
And the crooked ass police
Walk with me
On this suicidal mission through the central
We gots 44's for cresidentials
Walk with me
As we journey through the land of the C's and the B's
And the coward ass police
Walk with me
On this suicidal mission through the central
We gots 44's for cresidentials
Now as I look to my riz-ight and to my liz-eft
I see my siz-elf starin face to face with hisself
Will I live to see my little one grow to be a G
Like his daddy W from the dub S C (look at that)
I keep the guts to keep the heat on ya
And watch your enemies 'cause they creep on ya
Now when time comes around for my name to be called
I'd rather die with it on me then not have it all
Stalkin, walkin in my big blue Chucks
They take this man, maddogin, ready to biz-ust
Yeah I walk through the valley of late nighter homicide
G riders into the makers of a buckin Impala
How far will I make it
'cause I'm related, I know I'm highly hated
Affiliated, tomorrow ain't promised so at night I pray
I live to give it up for the hood another day
[Chorus:]
Walk with me
As we journey through the land of the C's and the B's
And the crooked ass police
Walk with me
On this suicidal mission through the central
We gots 44's for cresidentials
Walk with me
As we journey through the land of the C's and the B's
And the trigger happy police
Walk with me
On this suicidal mission through the central
We gots 44's for cresidentials
Drama more drama more drama more drama
Niggas are goin crazy for this mother fuckin dollar
I done seen em turn G's to snitches
Browns to kissers, niggas like used to consider reel to reel bitches
Niggas done switch-ded turn from killas to powder
Bust up, I'm pumpin, crack and tore that ass up and
Bitches I used to fuck in 96
Is now turnin tricks for hits 'cause they addicted to glass dicks
Suckin niggas off for the green
The ex-class felon notorious now the deadbeet queen
Check out her body, take a look at how the crack took toll
Went from being fine as hell to look at my guest or roll
I'm swoll, a boss with a perm and a frown
They say chicks don't run for witness partic a clown
I'm tryin to stay strong and mantain my stroll
But the neighborhood just ain't the same no more, uh-uh
[Chorus:]
Walk with me
As we journey through the land of the C's and the B's
And the crooked ass police
Walk with me
On this suicidal mission through the central
We gots 44's for cresidentials
Walk with me
As we journey through the land of the C's and the B's
And the scandalous ass police
Walk with me
On this suicidal mission through the central
We gots 44's for cresidentials
Uh, yeah, uh
Mother fuckers better take heed
'cause love don't live here no more
South Central L.A.
The modern day plantation

[Intro]
Yea . .
Turn the music up a little bit . . .
[*Nate Dogg in background] Dah-dah-daaah
Uh, yea
Lah-dah-daaah
A little bit louder . . right there
Dah-dah-daaah
[Nate Dogg] In the name of the streets
[Verse]
Click click bu ya! Dub kicked the frame in (uh huh)
Nigga let the games begin, as I standin'
Tossed the tall can on a campus off the limital
scanners takin' penitentiary chances
Sick wit it, off the ric wit it
Blue beenie knitted; freshly acquitted
Grind-grimey, the big body and the big body
Wit lyrics and 'draulics hotter than the Majave
Sellin', brubble bellin', career felon
Escalade 3-braid beer wearin'
Fuck it, I thug for free and thug to eat
Niggas call me "Home of Cake" cause I love the cheese
Gangstas, hustlas, pimps, if ya follow me
Let me see ya put them hands up like a robbery
I solemnly swear to stay down and slang the seed
I spit in the name of the streets
[Chorus: Nate Dogg + W.C.]
I'm gonna roll (I'm gonna roll)
I'm gon' stay fly (I'm gonna stay fly)
I'm gonna bust (I'm gonna bust)
Hold my hood up high (throw my hood up high)
In the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll (I'm gonna roll)
I'm gon' rich ride (I'm goin' rich ride)
I'm gonna ball (I'm gonna ball)
Hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
[Verse]
This is for them geniuz
Da best is my East niazz
Both sides street niazz
This is for them DJ's coast to coast movin' this
Spin-ni-nin them turntables that bomp the Ruvian
Smashous, best trap us for cash and dump a blunt at ya's
Outta the mix-classes, this is for them riders, ridin' for the mims
Ghetto ass niazz on them big shiny rims (uh huh)
Thrashin', you're back at ya, bring a debassa'
Got dropping on your drastic, another hood classic
Dump the "Ghetto Heisman" singing "more cabbage"
A street niazz livin' on seek and kill status
Unlock the racked Def Jam cock it back
Recess is over, I want my spot back
Who's the next? I preceded to blow coming at 'em
I'm in a mink coat and Spacey gat 'em
You're lookin' at 'em
[Chorus]
[Bridge: Nate Dogg]
I told a woman I don't love her but she wants to go
I told another that I want her but she wants to hoe
I ain't a hater I'm a player so I fucked 'em both
In the name of the streets
[Outro]
[*Nate Dogg in background] Dah-dah-daaah
Yea . . .
Lah-dah-daaah
Dub-C . . .
Dah-dah-daaah
The "Ghetto Heisman" . . .
[Nate Dogg] In the name of the streets
Swangin' through a hood near you
[*over last line of outro] Dah-dah-daaah
Lah-dah-daaah
Dah-dah-daaah

Yea, turn the music up a little bit
Yea, a little bit louder, right there
In the name of the streets
Click, click, boo ya, Dub kicked the frame in
Nigga, let the games begin, as I standin'
Tossed the tall can on a campus, off the limital
Scanners takin' penitentiary chances
Sick wit it, off the ric wit it
Blue beenie knitted, freshly acquitted
Grind, grimey, the big body an' the big body
Wit lyrics an' 'draulics hotter than the Majave
Sellin', brubble bellin', career felon
Escalade, 3 braid beer wearin'
Fuck it, I thug for free an' thug to eat
Niggas call me 'Home of Cake' 'cause I love the cheese
Gangstas, hustlas, pimps, if ya follow me
Let me see ya put them hands up like a robbery
I solemnly swear to stay down an' slang the seed
I spit in the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll, I'm gon' stay fly
I'm gonna bust, hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll, I'm gon' rich ride
I'm gonna ball, hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
This the itty bitty nigga, from the city they call LB
What you know about the D O G?
I keep my peeps wit a bag o' treats
On the streets, my nephews beat your beat an' keep that heat
In the Cutt an' indiscrete
Me an' Dub-C crippin' cousins in this industry
A lotta' y'all pretend to be
Wanna see, friends wit me an' then sleep wit the enemy?
Want some, get some, bad enough, take some
Suckas poppin' off, I'm 'bout to take one
Braids on, make done, don't want none
An' just 'cause we talkin', what you doin' C walkin'?
It's not just a dance, it's a way o' livin'
Now if ya C walkin', ya best to see Crippin'
An' that goes for kids too an' R an' B singers
Nigga, quit Crip walkin' if ya ain't a gang banger
I'm gonna roll, I'm gon' stay fly
I'm gonna bust, hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll, I'm gon' rich ride
I'm gonna ball, hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
I told a woman I don't love her but she wants to go
I told another that I want her but she wants to hoe
I ain't a hater, I'm a player, so I fucked 'em both
In the name of the streets
This is for them geniuz
Da best is my East niazz, both sides street niazz
This is for them DJs, coast to coast movin' this
Spinnin' them turntables that bomp the Ruvian
Smashous, best trap us for cash
An' dump a blunt at ya's, outta the mix classes
This is for them riders, ridin' for the mims
Ghetto ass niazz on them big shiny rims
Thrashin', you're back at ya, bring a debassa'
Got droppin' on your drastic, another hood classic
Dub the 'Ghetto Heisman' singin' 'More cabbage'
A street niazz livin' on seek an' kill status
Unlock the racked, Def Jam cock ya' back
Recess is over, I want my spot back
Who's the next? I preceded to blow comin' at 'em
I'm in a mink coat an' Spacey gat 'em, you're lookin' at 'em
I'm gonna roll, I'm gon' stay fly
I'm gonna bust, hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll, I'm gon' rich ride
I'm gonna ball, hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
Dub C, The 'Ghetto Heisman'
In the name of the streets
Swangin' through a hood near you

[Intro]
Yea . .
Turn the music up a little bit . . .
[*Nate Dogg in background] Dah-dah-daaah
Uh, yea
Lah-dah-daaah
A little bit louder . . right there
Dah-dah-daaah
[Nate Dogg] In the name of the streets
[Verse]
Click click bu ya! Dub kicked the frame in (uh huh)
Nigga let the games begin, as I standin'
Tossed the tall can on a campus off the limital
scanners takin' penitentiary chances
Sick wit it, off the ric wit it
Blue beenie knitted; freshly acquitted
Grind-grimey, the big body and the big body
Wit lyrics and 'draulics hotter than the Majave
Sellin', brubble bellin', career felon
Escalade 3-braid beer wearin'
Fuck it, I thug for free and thug to eat
Niggas call me 'Home of Cake' cause I love the cheese
Gangstas, hustlas, pimps, if ya follow me
Let me see ya put them hands up like a robbery
I solemnly swear to stay down and slang the seed
I spit in the name of the streets
[Chorus: Nate Dogg + W.C.]
I'm gonna roll (I'm gonna roll)
I'm gon' stay fly (I'm gonna stay fly)
I'm gonna bust (I'm gonna bust)
Hold my hood up high (throw my hood up high)
In the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll (I'm gonna roll)
I'm gon' rich ride (I'm goin' rich ride)
I'm gonna ball (I'm gonna ball)
Hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
[Verse]
This is for them geniuz
Da best is my East niazz
Both sides street niazz
This is for them DJ's coast to coast movin' this
Spin-ni-nin them turntables that bomp the Ruvian
Smashous, best trap us for cash and dump a blunt at ya's
Outta the mix-classes, this is for them riders, ridin' for the mims
Ghetto ass niazz on them big shiny rims (uh huh)
Thrashin', you're back at ya, bring a debassa'
Got dropping on your drastic, another hood classic
Dump the 'Ghetto Heisman' singing 'more cabbage'
A street niazz livin' on seek and kill status
Unlock the racked Def Jam cock it back
Recess is over, I want my spot back
Who's the next? I preceded to blow coming at 'em
I'm in a mink coat and Spacey gat 'em
You're lookin' at 'em
[Chorus]
[Bridge: Nate Dogg]
I told a woman I don't love her but she wants to go
I told another that I want her but she wants to hoe
I ain't a hater I'm a player so I fucked 'em both
In the name of the streets
[Outro]
[*Nate Dogg in background] Dah-dah-daaah
Yea . . .
Lah-dah-daaah
Dub-C . . .
Dah-dah-daaah
The 'Ghetto Heisman' . . .
[Nate Dogg] In the name of the streets
Swangin' through a hood near you
[*over last line of outro] Dah-dah-daaah
Lah-dah-daaah
Dah-dah-daaah
[Nate Dogg] In the name of the streets

[W.C.]
Uh, dat's riir, niir!
Back once again, it's Dub C: the shadiest
Introducing ya'll to the newest members of my clique:
Young Shane, wit Young Hogs, Dre'sta the Gangsta
and we are: Bandana Swangin' Productions (Yo, Toones!)
Can you feel this realness? Nothin' can save ya
From the school full of big tails, Dickies and Ben Davis
The one and only witta chrome pistole
For those who don't know me: Bandana Swangin' Parole
Dub witta capital 3rd letter
Down for whatever, whenever takin' the berettas to bangin' for cheddar
Forever bailin' in my overalls and work- (?)
Breakin' jaws
Dre'sta the Gangsta, Dub C and the Young Hogs
[Young Shane]
It's the young Desperado! My model is to bang foe the hood,
bring the pain foe the hood, cuz it's all tooted good
On the reala, a young killa, a young thrilla, mashin'
the enemy goes down for (?) scrilla
To whom it may concern: fool, I need a 'Burn' like Militia
All ridas creepin' about to getcha
It's the same, loc, don't get it twisted when I bail through
One Bandana Swangin' wit bottles on both sides
Chorus:
Survival of the fittest and we wit this
Who wanna witness? All my rides wit hustle handle their business (?)
Survival of the fittest and we wit this
Who wanna witness? All my ladies wit hustle handle their business (?)
Survival of the fittest and we wit this
Who wanna witness? Real rides, be wise and handle your business
Survival of the fittest and we wit this
Who wanna witness? Bandana Swangin' [be bangin' and bringin' their business]
[Dre'sta]
Mic check, 1, 2, what you bustas wan' do or gon' do?
Now that real rides are upon you. I warned you and alarmed you!
The bandanas will be swangin' when we swarm through, was born to!
[Cap to make the minds of all remainin' (?)]
Make these girls and the thugs in the club dance.
Dre'sta the Gangsta makin' you bang your head and bounce
Shout from the West to East, Midwest and Dirty South!
Dub C, my niir, yeah
Young Hogs born to thug wit me and Muggs
and Green Bug California Love, homie (?) chases only,
women upon me, never phony, get it lonely, you can ride upon me
Lyrically fictive (?) be the loc'est
whack rappers claiming' dat they're the dopest
When hopeless brothers be the brokest
Saddest song dat you ever heard
Shinin some light on all you bustas like the Ghetto bird!
And that's (?)
Chorus:
[W.C.]
Ugh! Ah, Good Evening! Do not attempt to adjust your radio!
Ain't nuttin' wrong, we have taken control to bring you the special show:
Bandana Swangin'! Who me? Huh, I'm known as Dub C alias the shadiest one.
Ey, Dre'sta, what you got?
[Dre'sta]
I got a slug foe every mug dat wanna look at me evil
And got a clutch foe all fake thugs and scandalous people.
If you test Dre it's suicide. Lyrical drive by
Makin' sure you suckas die. Only ya bye-bye (?)
And the moves (?) of the 5-0 got rappers study
And us gangstas like revival since my arrival.
And roll wit hogs dat get it's on, raw and ball till we fall
And revolve all broads to (??)
[W.C.]
From the land of the scandalous, sho dogs and locs
I represent the chronic (?) and smashes of gun smoke.
For this box Regal to Martinis (?) sippers on a do low
3 time felons, double eye for [strinkin' pulo (?)], you know
The shadiest, shadiest wanted ‘em all but call
Dub C the Ghetto manifesto, still standin' tall
Bandana Swangin' till the wheels fall off
And all my momma bear the realest niirs to ever lay ya'll
Chorus: [2x]

[W.C.]
Uh, dat's riir, niir!
Back once again, it's Dub C: the shadiest
Introducing ya'll to the newest members of my clique:
Young Shane, wit Young Hogs, Dre'sta the Gangsta
and we are: Bandana Swangin' Productions (Yo, Toones!)
Can you feel this realness? Nothin' can save ya
From the school full of big tails, Dickies and Ben Davis
The one and only witta chrome pistole
For those who don't know me: Bandana Swangin' Parole
Dub witta capital 3rd letter
Down for whatever, whenever takin' the berettas to bangin' for cheddar
Forever bailin' in my overalls and work- (?)
Breakin' jaws
Dre'sta the Gangsta, Dub C and the Young Hogs
[Young Shane]
It's the young Desperado! My model is to bang foe the hood,
bring the pain foe the hood, 'cause it's all tooted good
On the reala, a young killa, a young thrilla, mashin'
the enemy goes down for (?) scrilla
To whom it may concern: fool, I need a "Burn" like Militia
All ridas creepin' about to getcha
It's the same, loc, don't get it twisted when I bail through
One Bandana Swangin' wit bottles on both sides
Chorus:
Survival of the fittest and we wit this
Who wanna witness? All my rides wit hustle handle their business (?)
Survival of the fittest and we wit this
Who wanna witness? All my ladies wit hustle handle their business (?)
Survival of the fittest and we wit this
Who wanna witness? Real rides, be wise and handle your business
Survival of the fittest and we wit this
Who wanna witness? Bandana Swangin' [be bangin' and bringin' their business]
[Dre'sta]
Mic check, 1, 2, what you bustas wan' do or gon' do?
Now that real rides are upon you. I warned you and alarmed you!
The bandanas will be swangin' when we swarm through, was born to!
[Cap to make the minds of all remainin' (?)]
Make these girls and the thugs in the club dance.
Dre'sta the Gangsta makin' you bang your head and bounce
Shout from the West to East, Midwest and Dirty South!
Dub C, my niir, yeah
Young Hogs born to thug wit me and Muggs
and Green Bug California Love, homie (?) chases only,
women upon me, never phony, get it lonely, you can ride upon me
Lyrically fictive (?) be the loc'est
whack rappers claiming' dat they're the dopest
When hopeless brothers be the brokest
Saddest song dat you ever heard
Shinin some light on all you bustas like the Ghetto bird!
And that's (?)
Chorus:
[W.C.]
Ugh! Ah, Good Evening! Do not attempt to adjust your radio!
Ain't nuttin' wrong, we have taken control to bring you the special show:
Bandana Swangin'! Who me? Huh, I'm known as Dub C alias the shadiest one.
Ey, Dre'sta, what you got?
[Dre'sta]
I got a slug foe every mug dat wanna look at me evil
And got a clutch foe all fake thugs and scandalous people.
If you test Dre it's suicide. Lyrical drive by
Makin' sure you suckas die. Only ya bye-bye (?)
And the moves (?) of the 5-0 got rappers study
And us gangstas like revival since my arrival.
And roll wit hogs dat get it's on, raw and ball till we fall
And revolve all broads to (??)
[W.C.]
From the land of the scandalous, sho dogs and locs
I represent the chronic (?) and smashes of gun smoke.
For this box Regal to Martinis (?) sippers on a do low
3 time felons, double eye for [strinkin' pulo (?)], you know
The shadiest, shadiest wanted 'em all but call
Dub C the Ghetto manifesto, still standin' tall
Bandana Swangin' till the wheels fall off
And all my momma bear the realest niirs to ever lay ya'll

[Chorus]
Slow motion for me, Slow motion for me, Move it(Three-wheeling)
I like it like that, she working that back I don't know how to act(2x)
Me and my girl got this thang going on
Every time we hit the block and get are roll on
She be fully hooked up, Turning heads and necks
Mo niggaz and latinos on her then county checks
Especially when the relatives and cousins come around
Paparazzi get to popping its a buzz around town
The downiest bitch I every had
Niggaz call her hot motherfucker, I call her fifty-seven rag
We be swanging city to city, off the sticky icky
Drinking dark coming through slow motion at the park
thirteen's feet on deck, ass so wide
watch her front back and side to side
Like Uh
[Chorus]
My girl talk to my girl, a freak with sixteen batteries
And a gang of bitches in her family
Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty-three, sixty-four
Niggaz be pimping paying like hoes
A dime piece with switches, fully stacked in the romp
She a stallion, she hit the block with pumps
In all the beauty contest, she keep stealing
The way she be seesawing pancaking and three wheeling
Some like her with a candy, some with a pearl
Me I like her longer with a five twenty swirl
Im a ghetto rich nigga so I stay dropping cash
She high maintance I be gorilla hopping her ass
Like an erection I make her stand up
When a gang of niggaz whistling throwing they hands up
Fuck the american dream, its the ghetto nigga dream
So street niggaz hit the switch and sing the ghetto theme

[W.C.]
Down on my motherfuckin luck
Hangin at the park, shootin dice, and I just got.. bucked
And now I'm mad cause I'm broke as hell
Cause a nigga's unemployed plus I just got out of jail
So now I gotta come up on a lick
but the lick that I hit can't be no bullllllshit
So now I gotta call up my nigga
My nigga Ty, yeah, my homey from Wakeside
Yo nigga whassup? I need a lick
He told me to trip, he knew this fool up on 75th
who had a safe and a whole lot of yea
Two six-fours and a ragtop sittin on them thangs
He said this motherfucker was worth ten mill'
I said, 'Cool then it's a done deal'
Went to the pad and grabbed the black ski-mask
Put it on tight so nobody could see my ass
So now I got the mac with the teller
just in case these motherfuckers wanna play Goodfellas
Called up the crew; aiy Coolio
This motherfucker said he knew this nigga with some loot
[C:] So what's it gonna be, jack kidnap or rape?
Nawww motherfucker just murder and a take
[C:] Cool, then set it up
Aight nigga here I come
Hung up the phone went to my room and I grabbed another gun
Slapped on my khakis, I'm gone
Went outside and jumped in the bucket, motherfucker it's on yeah
Three-wheel motion, throwin up the M
Nigga Dana Dane's what I call my rims
Scooped up Cool', now we in pursuit
Two niggaz with a plan to get some loot
Hit the one-ten on my way to my homeboy's house
Lookin for a quick way out, nigga
{*scratching*}
So now we at my nigga Ty house
Cookin up a plan on the best way to take this nigga out
Just got out of Quentin for a caper
and I don't wanna go back so motherfucker put it on paper
[C:] And no sooner than we got the info
I shot the nigga in the head with the fo'-fo'
I grabbed my mac when the motherfucker hit the flo'
God damn Coolio, what you shoot him fo'?
[C:] Look, I know you and you know me
but I don't know him and that's the way it's gonna be
Who's that nigga?
That was my homeboy nigga!
[C:] Yo fuck that nigga! WE CAN GET BIGGER!
So now we on our way to get paid
Rollin in a fucked up van with taped up license plates
Took the back way through the alley
And now we're sweatin cause we just took a hit from the wet daddy
[C:] Got out the van, hit the back gate
Everything's goin according to plan
I had the front and Dub had the back
I had the fo'-fo' and he had the mac
Now we runnin through the house like motherfuckin SWAT
and if anything move it's gonna get popped
Awwwww, there go the nigga that we lookin for
Fool, GET YO' MOTHERFUCKIN ASS ON THE FLO'
[C:] Now he's bound and gagged with duct tape
Dub, I got the motherfuckin safe
BAY-BAYYYY!
[C:] Jumped in the van and now we rollin
And I'm trippin off this fat-ass grip that I'm holdin
And the nigga, huh, don't worry about him
Took the combination and the yea and I shot him
We got the loot and now we in route
to get a motherfuckin drink and knock some boots
Big money big trout ain't no doubt
I'm lookin for a quick way out, motherfucker!
{*tires peel, instrumental interlude*}
[W.C.]
So now we on our way to the spot
A bucket full of ducats to drop before the streets get hot
But little did we know that the nigga we smoked
had some homies in the cut, sittin in the six-fo'
So now we gettin chased by some niggaz in the cut
but I bet this mac'll make they ass stay back
Hit up the gat, damn my shit is jammed
Good thing a nigga had a backup plan
But it's too late to grab the extra gat
Burnin rubber in the bucket and we cracked
[C:] So we jumped out the van and no matter what the cost
we had our mind set on sendin niggaz to Harris and Ross
But this time a nigga wasn't color blind
Fucked around and got smoked at the end of the crime

[WC]
Uhh, yeah! What's crackin y'all? Dub C
Still chasin this cheese, puttin it down
Whassup Nate?
[Chorus: Nate Dogg]
Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (dem dolla dolla dollars)
Ain't afraid to bust back, paper's all I need (we rider rider riders)
Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (yeah, yeah)
Ain't afraid to bust back, paper's all I need
[WC]
Check it out
What they hittin fo'? Look I'm sick of all this chattin
Bullshit rappin, let's really get it a-crackin
Y'all niggaz ain't ready fo' a nigga that's gettin paper
Foe scraper, dice shaker, the white, Chuck Taylors
Dark fat laces and fetti with big-ass faces
Blue gators (?), X.O. by the cases
The rider ringleader with weed and my zag smashin
Ya bang ambassador, givin it up back at'cha blastin ya
Off brand assassin-er, jackin for figures c'mon
Totalled up a rock, with a repetitive offender
The purple tinter, the big spender
The realest nigga you know, smellin like doe doe and Pruno
Sick with the flow, swangin low-lows and Harleys
Gather the guests at my mansions and throw my parole parties
Ex criminal turned corporate; elevated my game to worldwide nation
Tippin on paper trippin nia
[Chorus]
[WC]
Big beans or big wings or big screens
Befo' y'all stands a ghetto nigga with big dreams
I throw the dice, close my eyes and rich roll 'em
Take my handkerchief and fold 'em, y'all know the slogan
Riders don't worry multiply shift gears
Toss fingers in the sky, fuck hoes and stay high
The bigger the lick the bigger the hit to cash it all
So whether they ready or not I'm snatchin it all
Wood grains and chrome frames the mode is hang
A trick that won't sang, transported dem thangs
Fuck the pain, give me a label ain't shit funny
Look I'm tryin to touch that Rush and Lyor Cohen's money
Get the Neville's money and blow doja with my stash on rich
And get my dick licked by the baddest bitch
Fade ya, real boy major with tough shit they ain't got
like three-way pagers, nigga I'm paper trippin
[Chorus]
[Nate Dogg]
Paper is all.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars)
.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars)
.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars)
.. I need
[WC]
Testin testin, broadcastin live
All day unleaded'll go fo' forty-nine
No garbage no cut, just the bomb pow-wow
Gots to get my hands on that new body style
Floss all you nigga, toss liquor up
A rugged nigga smokin on a cigarette butt
Mashin and I ain't lettin the pedal up
Cause all these songs on my radio ain't ghetto enough
Shutted 'em up with the tank in the cut, I'm sweated to bust
Dub C'zy, fo'ever, gettin 'em up
Hands down I'm the motherfuckin man
Who else could take a gang hop and turn it to a national dance
Givin the fans a glance of a rider saggin his pants
with my rag on my cane standin in a penguin stance, nigga
Worldwidin, ridin, collidin
Fool it's sincerely yours the Ghetto Heisman, paper trippin
[Chorus]
[WC]
Dub C, ghetto extrordinaire, hood fabulous
Comin through with fingers in the air
Y'all know what time it is
[Nate] Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's
[WC] Dem dolla dolla dollars

[WC]
Uhh, yeah! What's crackin y'all? Dub C
Still chasin this cheese, puttin it down
Whassup Nate?
[Chorus: Nate Dogg]
Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (dem dolla dolla dollars)
Ain't afraid to bust back, paper's all I need (we rider rider riders)
Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (yeah, yeah)
Ain't afraid to bust back, paper's all I need
[WC]
Check it out
What they hittin fo'? Look I'm sick of all this chattin
Bullshit rappin, let's really get it a-crackin
Y'all niggaz ain't ready fo' a nigga that's gettin paper
Foe scraper, dice shaker, the white, Chuck Taylors
Dark fat laces and fetti with big-ass faces
Blue gators (?), X.O. by the cases
The rider ringleader with weed and my zag smashin
Ya bang ambassador, givin it up back at'cha blastin ya
Off brand assassin-er, jackin for figures c'mon
Totalled up a rock, with a repetitive offender
The purple tinter, the big spender
The realest nigga you know, smellin like doe doe and Pruno
Sick with the flow, swangin low-lows and Harleys
Gather the guests at my mansions and throw my parole parties
Ex criminal turned corporate; elevated my game to worldwide nation
Tippin on paper trippin nia
[Chorus]
[WC]
Big beans or big wings or big screens
Befo' y'all stands a ghetto nigga with big dreams
I throw the dice, close my eyes and rich roll 'em
Take my handkerchief and fold 'em, y'all know the slogan
Riders don't worry multiply shift gears
Toss fingers in the sky, fuck hoes and stay high
The bigger the lick the bigger the hit to cash it all
So whether they ready or not I'm snatchin it all
Wood grains and chrome frames the mode is hang
A trick that won't sang, transported dem thangs
Fuck the pain, give me a label ain't shit funny
Look I'm tryin to touch that Rush and Lyor Cohen's money
Get the Neville's money and blow doja with my stash on rich
And get my dick licked by the baddest bitch
Fade ya, real boy major with tough shit they ain't got
like three-way pagers, nigga I'm paper trippin
[Chorus]
[Nate Dogg]
Paper is all.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars)
.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars)
.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars)
.. I need
[WC]
Testin testin, broadcastin live
All day unleaded'll go fo' forty-nine
No garbage no cut, just the bomb pow-wow
Gots to get my hands on that new body style
Floss all you nigga, toss liquor up
A rugged nigga smokin on a cigarette butt
Mashin and I ain't lettin the pedal up
Cause all these songs on my radio ain't ghetto enough
Shutted 'em up with the tank in the cut, I'm sweated to bust
Dub C'zy, fo'ever, gettin 'em up
Hands down I'm the motherfuckin man
Who else could take a gang hop and turn it to a national dance
Givin the fans a glance of a rider saggin his pants
with my rag on my cane standin in a penguin stance, nigga
Worldwidin, ridin, collidin
Fool it's sincerely yours the Ghetto Heisman, paper trippin
[Chorus]
[WC]
Dub C, ghetto extrordinaire, hood fabulous
Comin through with fingers in the air
Y'all know what time it is
[Nate] Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's

(feat. Koupsta)
[W.C.]
Let the games begin, any of y'all testing when
Cranking again, swanging again, let the gangstas in
Back causing tragedies straight from the gladiator academy
Bouncing on 16 that will be, sagging
Committed to smashing, thrashing
Backhand smacking, back with what y'all been lacking
Ladies pour the yac up, turn this track up
And if you ain't sharing that pussy back up
I got niggas in 600s, with large chips
Hard dicks, fresh off the yard for licks
Dipping, with full clips cooking them birds
Running trips, and running that lungs and lips
Shots ready, big fetty, bombs steady
Got my own slang neer ask Fonzerelli
Spit gator it carefully, swerve in the cheve
Watching veterans skip it gets no better than this
[Chorus]
We gone roll motherfucker, believe it's on
We gone smoke this motherfucker till the weed is gone
We gone let the hundred spokes twist all day
We gone smash on these haters till we all paid
Ride niggas, ride niggas, my niggas ride will you
Ride niggas, ride niggas, my niggas ride will you
[Koupsta]
Somebody act Koup Deville off the lot, calico cocked
Hot with 16 fin to close down shop
Some strictly where it's certified, khakis and biscuits
Smack you senseless, make you a bag in the district
A nigga swift, and got to gasping for oxygen
Now blocking it, to every hood there ain't no stopping it
So to your community, ain't nothing new to me
Bandanna protected, what can you do to me
I need a sawed off mic when I kill it
Spill it, make the taliban shit look like a picnic
Controversy, knocking a whole in your jersey
Well and worthy and represent it till I'm buried
Lets have a collision assault and battery
See hard headed toupee, y'all nasty like ?
Fuck the ?cranis?, keep banging till this shit is blank
With the killer clan trans. and I don't does paint
[Chorus]
[W.C.]
Knock, knock, it's that nigga loc with it tank, with it
Clock with it, swang on top with it
(who is you), I'm W.C. neer strapped tight
What's your name (I'm Koup Deville) well nigga take flight
[Koupsta]
Time to wreck up, do the monster mash, full flag
Bandanna tag, everybody crease up your rag
A double fucking bank anthem, swang tantrum
Black cannon holder, throwing them thangs at them
But it's time to shut down, this sound, broke down
Body Koup, with the lick, break round
A nigga laced with the city smoke, 24's
Your boy at it cause I spit some of the best city soap
No he didn't, yes he did, stick him in the ribs
Get chopped down like Freddy left him with no limbs
Bout to penetrate the whole station, so I could cave in
Better stay in for the night, they ain't playing
Let's think about the big picture, when I aim I won't miss you
They gone when the vehicular gets you
I'm with it till the break dawn, I shake bud
Break a back on the way out spitting the A-1
[Chorus x2]
[Koupsta talking]
Yeah nigga, Koup Deville, bandanna protected
Certified swanging on you weeny ass niggas
Can't none of y'all niggas see me and the big homeboy Dub
It's cracking nigga, yeah, we keep it banging

[Verse: WC]
We been through SL Coupe
Wrist froze like Igloo
Big Lou, Tony get your sauce swirled
Come twisting, Nina whistling that you with your home girls
Big bankers, Big drinker, I see you sneaking
A peak so I know you live these gangsters
Freaky thoughts got me cussing at you
Visualizing me in side ya, baby can we holla
Lookie here lets skip the fake conversation and all the waiting
My name is Dub what's crackalatin
Certified rider, all nighter, dipping in the Impala
Trying to get you with this anaconda
Be your friendly neighbor-hood neighbor with paper
Chrome and wood on the Chevy baby
Bust rubbers go deep under covers
A freaky mother fucka' we should get to know each other
[Chorus: Case]
Come take a ride with me baby
Me and my homey bout to blow - Flirt
I saw you at the light looking bright
Banging from your head to your toes - Flirt
Can't tell the future, I don't know what tomorrow holds
But we can smoke a little chronic, drink a little
And if it's good, drink a lil' mo - Flirt
[Verse: WC]
Ain't no denying I'm straight buying
You in that tight skirt
Cause baby you got my flirt
Shutting all rookies down
Stub down Dub Cezzy
A.k.a. Pussy Hound
Who was snitching, punany technician
Trying to make your head off from multiple positions
Off a yatch and moet
I fiend for sex, menage a trois and getting freaky of that ass
Cause I insert it
Squirt it wit you on top jerking it
Playing Mystikal like "show me what you working wit"
Running up in it playing dead duck let me put the plug in it
Show you how a thug hit it
Exchange lines, blazing drinks St. Ides
Trying to do the damn thing wit you
And your girl at the same time
No commitments to make the butt riches, a machine loving m vocabulary, flirt
[Chorus]
[Verse: WC]
I got a problem, and it's serious as cancer
No matter what you call it baby I'm a fuckaholic
Trying to get you on the lizo to blow
And whistle my melody, part them legs open like the Red Sea
Make you smack hit it from the back
While I'm creeping in the hood blowing on dubs sac
As long as your kit-kat gets wet and percolate
No matter the color or size, I can't hate
I like the skinny ones, thick ones the whole entre
I even think I'm country for fat monkeys like Beyonce
Wet lips and as ghetto as Vivica
Nasty long tongue known for licking ya
I might trick a little just to keep the litter
But tripping as G gon' cause we goin sip
I'm mashing to smashing
There's too many asses
I can't role past them, I'm getting at them
[Chorus] (2x)
[Outro: WC + (Case)]
(You me, Dub-Cee)
Uh, Dub-Cee (Flirt)
Case (that's me)

[Chorus: P. Dot]
When them guns goes off, we be ready for war
When them guns goes off, bitches hit the floor
When them guns goes off, and them sirens roar
Better get that money, and be out the door
[W.C.]
Racket, racket, comin' out of the back end
Dead at you, he throwin' the hot lead at you
Swang affiliate, X.O. sip, a gold getter
With the rest to gather, my cold killer
It's "Me Against the World" like 2Pac
And like Biggie, I'm "Ready to Die" for what you got
Got a crew with killas behind me, I'm grimey
I'm one of the big body, blowin' cushions where you can find me
For figures, we bust triggers, who could fuck with us?
Dub, E-40, Christ Bearer, plus RZA
Stick you with the Blade, we gots to get paid
And for the moolah, we intertwine like French braids
And I can't fight the feeling like one way
When it comes down to this gangsta shit and gun play
For the loot, we compute it, quick to shoot it
So hit the switch, punk blew it, and bang the music
[Hook: P. Dot (The Reverend William Black)]
I don't care what it takes, we gon' make it
They say the chains too strong for us to break it
Willing to do what it takes for us to make it
And we can overcome anything we faced with
(We are soldiers after all, down by honor we won't fall
After all, all, all, all, all....)
[Christ Bearer]
When them guns go off, bitches hit the floor
Or then forty four slugs gonna hit you, ho
I don't care what it takes, I pull out a gear
Fuck the snakes, and Kurtis Blow with The Breaks off
Artie Murphy and the Petty Coat Junction
Get two thirty off the head with cold dumplings
Niggaz jump when the AK bark
Crystal grip pump, make the gun niggaz spark
You dig? Niggaz ready for war
Been carryin' the world for so long, it ain't heavy no more
And even when the sirens roar, I taught the violence gore to start firing more
And when we run out of bullets, and you still want static?
I grab the three eighty and pull out the automatic
We better get the money, for shootin' Mossbergs and Beretta's
Niggaz ain't shit funny, when it comes to a brawl
Suckin' Northstar, trippin' in
Guns go off, y'all know y'all strippin'
[Hook: P. Dot (The Reverend William Black)]
Willing to do what it takes for us to make it
And we can overcome anything we faced with
(We are soldiers after all, down by honor we won't fall
After all, all, all, all, all....)
[E-40]
Look out peon, we might of lost the battle, but we won the war
I grab a bullet, travel, bodies hit the floor
Can't be scared of your shadow, you gotta have heart
Killas on my soil, will turn off the lights and park
Get out the car, unlock, fill out the chopper and let it chop
Walk off like nothing happened, give a fuck bout a cop
Touch you with the Blade, take off your toupee
Put my dirt in your glocks, sometimes I do my dark in the day
My momma didn't raise no sick, she raised a beast
And I can't rest til my enemies rest in peace
The bigger they are, the harder they fall
Run up on me, I'ma knock the hell outta y'all
My back against the ball, strappin' and jackin', I'm puttin' hands on 'em
One hitter, quitter, bob & weavin', karate stance on 'em
Dance on 'em, ran on 'em, and land on 'em
Put my brand on 'em, stand on 'em, because I can on 'em
[Chorus]

Mm, mm, mm
[WC]
Aw Yeah
I'm wit this
It's me, the shadiest one
(Dub, callin' all dubs)
[Ice Cube]
Hot licks, hot licks
Comin' wit them hot licks, hot licks
Hit 'em wit them hot licks, hot licks
Rollin' with them hot licks
Hot licks
[WC]
Haters steppin to me, they wanna get some
But I'ma dub, yo, yo, you know the outcome
Another victory, they can't get wit' me
Smoke from the left so coupe it's all they ever see
I'm on the grind, I got's to get mine, loc
I been puttin' it down since the days of low pro, so
Why's everybody now hatin' on me? (why?)
Could it be I'm runnin' wit the dub SCG
Or is it that I'm countin my riches
Getting' my fingernails cleaned
And being braided by the finest bitches
Whateva the case you need to back up off my Benz
Keep my name out yo mouth and slow down like loose ends
Cuz I wrote for gears, y'all
Came to 'fore I served all y'all
I deserve my R y'all
Dub C, the new leader of the pack
Wit' the brand new sack, and yo, I can't hold back
Chorus: Ice Cube
It ain't a problem that I can't fix,
And I can do it wit' yo bitch
So if you lookin' for trouble and you wanna feel muscle
All up against yo brain
It'll weigh those troubles down the drain
I said I'll weigh those troubles down the drain
(Bang, bang dub C!)
[WC]
Not just braggin', snippin', saggin'
Bang when I talk make the whole world c-walk
I wants a little, yeah nigga, no doubt
I put myself in this game, and I'm the only one can take me out
The 4 droppa wit the Jocelyn complexion
Still love the women with tats and C-sections
Protection, got my own bodyguard nigga
Fuck security, sleep wit my finga on the trigga
A street scholar, born into nada go riff-rockin' prada
To rockin' shows in the Dama Fleet collar (hoo hooooo!)
Never thought a rapper can be livin' like this
All I wanted was for real loc's to feel my shit
Paid dues, curb served, for what, connected?
Sometimes feared but I'm never disrespected
Get the cash and mash, drivin' for the meal ticket
Stretch and takin' work, we gon get it, I can't hold back
Chorus
Get up, get up, get up, now throw your hood in the air
Let me know you out there
Eastside, Westside, South and up North
If y'all respect mines then I will respect yours
From the crips to bloods to latinos
I'm down with any nigga that's down for makin' c-notes
Illegal, a dozen egos can't lie
I'm addicted to twistin fools for them birds that don't fly
cause real G's chase cheese and shake busters
Cut for one another motherfuckin' color
We quick to bring it, but ain't got time for the drama
I'm all about stackin' dollaz and swangin' Impalas
I got my money to make, niggaz a gank, yea to chase
Keys a takin', bottles of paint, pounds of flip, a bottle of steak
Nigga to drink, pepper the bank, hose the brake, goes the weight
Foez the cane, but it's over, finish this game, what's my name?
(scratching)
I'm, I'm, I'm a dub to the C
I'ma dub to the C
I'ma dub to the C
I'ma dub to the C
Chorus
Bang bang
Hoo Hoooo!

[WC]
Nineteen-ninety-eight, damn I can't believe it
Whoever thought, throughout the drama, we'd live to see it
So many of us done lost lives to the streets
As we reminisce I'm pourin liquor for the deceased
Thinkin bout the times that I spent with many of em
Hopin that the Lord let me see the millenium
Trapped in this ghetto main, seekin better days
Fightin for my conscience, tryin to shake these wicked ways
I know it's wrong but it's hard to change
All my life, all I ever knew was hustle and game
Lookin for answers ever since I was a adolescent
Faced with rejection, early age stressin
But now ten years later with doodoo respect
I'm bustin million dollar raps and six digit checks
Showin love to my peeps and my love don't change
Here's a toast to you fakes, huh, here's to better days
[Ron Banks]
Might sound strange, but I just can't run away
I can't run, run, it might sound strange
but I just can't run away
I can't run, no, run away
[WC]
Touch a meal ticket, shake a spot for good
Never, I still got love for the neighborhood
And even though now it's infested with gunplay
on most days like Bootsy I can't stay away
Cause if I shook like y'all shook on me
Then whose gon' stay and guide the way for the lil homies?
I can't turn my head on my folks
so I stay visible in these streets and try to give hope
Born in the ghetto, raised in the ghetto
Got love for the ghetto, I can't forget the ghetto
How come everytime we get some change in our can
we run away and try to move out as far as we can?
I know that jealousy's the devil's greed but you worse
than a devil when you turn your back on these young G's
Now feel every word that I say, hear my cry
as I struggle out of thirst and search for better days
[Ron Banks]
Might sound strange, but I just can't run away
I can't run, run, run away!
Said I just can't run away
I can't run, run, run away
No I just can't run away
I can't run, run, runnnnnn away!
[WC]
Another day another dollar, it feels good to look around
and see I'm surrounded by real riders
Childhood comrades I ran with for years
Shared the same beer and tears over the same peers
Player haters swearin that all we all G's
off each others strength with these, regulates the same cheese
No jealousy we all family like Sister Sledge
Lace each other with game, so I can spin beer cans
Watch our kids grow together, as we get old together
Loc I mean this, let no one come in between this
Keep our business among us, behind doors and eyes closed
on those we consider as foes
Outsiders never exposed to your hustle
Plus I'm, never been one likely to trust em
No negative association, just dedication
to watch our paper sprout like this bud mutation
[Ron Banks]
Might sound strange, but I just can't run away
I can't run, run, run away!
No I just can't run away
I can't run, I can't runnnnnnn away!
No I just can't run away
I can't run run run run runnnnnn away!

Bellin strolling with a limp sagging hard
Mainly done by L.A. street niggas
Bellin is not just a casual stroll
But a way of life, a movement
First you take the rag, crease it
Place it in your back pocket and bell
But remember for all you square ass niggas
Rips to the left, doggs to the right
Not for niggas in tight ass jeans and penny loafers
But highly recommended for nigaas sporting
Khakis, house shoes and locs
Oh my God it can save us all
Yeah we back motherfucker
W.C. niia, niia, baam baam
Nigga keep the lights on
I gotta put it down
Keep it crackin' I'm sick of all this bullshit yacking
Y'all done fucked around and got the dub reacting
Lo-lows, broughams house shoes or roams
Once again it's on, nigga it's time to G on
When it comes to gangsta shit can't too many fuck with me
Hang with me or ride to the highest level of ridetivity
One to the neck, two to the neck
I'm sticking them leaving them scarred
Bitch niggas get rode of they yard
Hard get off that shit you lost that shit
See how many streets while you talk that shit
Fuck who billboard hanging
And who take you banging and slanging
I'm the hardest nigga in this game
Famin' the only one remaining but it's time for confrontation
The only one gon' swing them thangs an' swinging
With the Titanium flaming with my gun safety on FN
Fuck the whole world look I'm bellin
And now I got the remedy
To make you wanna come and ride with me
You know I keeps it crackin' 'cause it's a must
'Cause this the way we bell from dawn to dusk
I'm a keep banging that gangst ish
And none of y'all niggas can fuck with it
You know I keeps it crackin' 'cause it's a must
'Cause this the way we bell form dawn to dusk
Sick as they come, sick as thay come
W.C. got that bomb shit that'll numb your tongue
Fucking it up in my dum-da-da-dumbs
Not a dump-da-da-dumb off that wet one
Chucking up the finger but thumb
Scrap it clack-clack it and toss the liquor
Clip the barrel, hang out the window and get off on niggas
Snatch niggas, clap triggers
Leave you on the back of the grass niggas
Fuck all you rapping ass niggas
I'm a thank 'em let my nuts hang and dick dangle
Come in with the shit that will make you break them ankles
'Cause I'm an all season nigga leave yah leaking nigga
Thirsty gutter nigga use a first [Incomprehensible] nigga
Disappear nigga we gonna be here
Been shifting gears and doing this shit for years
Off the liquor though really though
Fuck a video I'm getting in these hoes
Nigga fuck what you yellin', I'm bellin
And now I got the remedy
To make you wanna come and ride with me
You know I keeps it crackin' 'cause it's a must
'Cause this the way we bell from dawn to dusk
I'm a keep banging that gangstaish
And none of y'all niggas can fuck with it
You know I keeps it crackin' 'cause it's a must
'Cause this the way we bell form dawn to dusk
If you see me saggin', don't say nothing
It's just the way we bell
When you see these chucks
You know I don't give a fuck
It's just the way we bell
Roll 'em in wrote this song again
[Incomprehensible]
Pull 'em out and let them glide
Hang 'em high
Put 'em hankies in the sky
Out of town niggas what you need, hit me get with me
Get tuned in to the realist nigga in this city
And if you came to L.A.
You never reached out and touched us, trust us
Then you must have been fucking with Bustas
Hell yeah, I said it I'm a hog in this shit
'Cause before me was none of this walking shit
Keep it real when I was skipping on benzos and navies
Y'all was in tight ass pants with Murphys in your khakis
Ducking now all of a sudden niggas start give super crippin'
[Incomprehensible] so nigga taste these slugs, tuckin'
Nigga tuck in your chain and your tail in and shut the fuck up

Off that ignorant, belligerent, gorilla people like mugilla
From the chickens, liver, stanky rivers like kitty liver
Take my finger out your putang you smelly Funkadelic
With Funkadelic reteric for you relics
(The buffalo fake the nigga street sweeper)
The Grim Reaper's grim reaper
I'm a Don like Magic Juan, off that sauvignon
The game sprays out of my mouth like a can of Krylon
Riverside to Saigon, I'm killing each track I rhyme on
You had tights on like you had nylons on
Boogie banga funked out panty stainer
Ghetto enough to get TV reception with a coat hanger
Smell me
(It's the [unverified] words man)
Fake comedy for my accident done on purpose
About to set the fly one, down with the ghetto Hiesman
I'll serve niggaz in the third person don't even try it
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
Timber, Hawk, it's the big hawk
Ready to chalk
With the boom ping, ping
That make the Dre swing, swing
Flipped and slipped and clipped equipped the trigger
Hit, click, click, click, click, click
Nigga, dissa, stealer, scrilla
Did-a anybody kill her? I'm blasting
None of them like Danskin
Closing caskets chromed
Put my L.A. throat back on
It's back on and getting cheddar
In my ride with the blue feather, in linen
Strolling with the vengeance
And when I make that gun clap
Bitch, niggaz roll like pigeons
So if you claiming than brang it
And be about the drama
It's WC and I ain't your mama
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
Nigga make way for the big bomber
Mr. all night rider, original bang hand glider
Scuffing up Chucks swiftly
Looking for a spot launch that mini mat
And that's a hard hat
Do it till I get you, pistol grip whip you
Nigga, your pitiful, picture me back burner material
Never, scraped off serial numbers and brought [unverified]
Ditching your block when live while you work
'Cause it ain't no half repping
Either you riding or not, cock it or keep stepping
Come on, feel the breeze
What, y'all ain't know? I got a squad so cold
We freeze all area codes, they need this, real Gs
Critical thesis bound to break shit down to quarter pieces
For real, Devil, the boss under the Dub
Swanging, giving orders to chickens and thugs
It ain't no bitch in this industry that flow like me
Matter fact, it ain't to many niggaz that can see me
For sure I've been none to loc for way too long
Now the spot lights on me, so believe me its on
Its funny the way I'm hated, always underrated
But ya'll hoes couldn't come with it if you masturbated
Niggaz wanna test me, I wish you would
Lyrics bang more harder than niggaz bang they hood
I come through unexpected like the in Vietnam grenades
Got so much heat I make the Devil run for shade
This ain't no game nigga, so don't fuck with T
Mess around and be headlining on Unsolved Mysteries
I got warrants for my arrest by the FBDs
For pushing off [unverified] trying to take these keys
A female fely in Burberry
Picking up money from the commissary
Don't fuck with Terry
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
WC, Dr. Stank, Devil, Lady T

(*spanish*)
Let's take a trip..
[WC]
Initiated, gang related a zig-zag litted
Straight homicider when I'm sick with it
I tank, feels the pain, pistols aim
Hands trimbling, cause I'm caught in the mix of the game
See I'm needing this nigga that got those
Mo' Chicken's to Roscoe's, plus a direct with the Delgatos
Throw a tree, 14-9 a ki, and if I double that
Then I can get 28 off me
Now the clue to the tax, I'm slapping on the amount
Breaking em down, letting the lil homies circle mouths for ounce
Gram for gram, touching all the fiends
Why not nigga, ain't that the american dream
Have money, fuck hoes, cut low-lows
Blow dope dough, and nigga fuck mo' hoes
Hey what can I say, it's the american way
I'm jacking for mill-i-ons, I'm loved from y'all to the Indians
From Columbus to the one time, they all corrupt
And they got Bush in office so nigga we all fucked
Look, I gotta eat, so nigga fuck being nice
Shiiit, I'm trying to ball like Reverand Pryce
Call my nigga Gangsta (what's happenin)
What's cracking nigga, where you at
[Gangsta]
I'm on deck in the Midwest, with some ghetto stars
In a suite with one of the homies in a rent-a-car
Fuck with me, we can all get blunted and fin hundred
Spoke sling-shots, and fitty cabs with ends on it
See, three or four hund, and a four month run
I got your back you got mine, till the deal get done
[Chorus: Lina - 2x]
Let's make a deal, time to take a trip (Quanto Questro)
Let's take a trip (what they going for)
[Gangsta]
I got fifty in your hand when you land, so get here
Stop and drop, you won't have to sit here
Niggas is lined up, so keep mine tough
Back and fourth in freight-line trucks
14-9, gotta X out the middle man
Find out how much they'll charge us to get him here
Check six-hund and a six month run
Any nigga try to trip, whole shit get spun
Ain't nothing to it, but to do it (baby)
Staking paper to the ceiling like the (eighties)
Ask Anesto, Quanto Qeusto
Tell him that we got a hundred thous in a Benz or the Lexo
[WC]
La la la la la la la la
I'm about to catch me a homicide
[Gangsta]
Ah naw Dub, we done cracked him fo sho glove
We gone build up our trust, till they trust us with mo' drugs
Then, they gone wish they never knew us
Have em saying hathe pinche miatay, screw us
We called Anesto, at Texaco
Set up a meeting at Taco Mexico
(*talking*)

[Intro]
Yea . .
Turn the music up a little bit . . .[*Nate Dogg in background] Dah-dah-daaah
Uh, yea Lah-dah-daaah
A little bit louder . . right there Dah-dah-daaah
[Nate Dogg:] In the name of the streets
[Verse: WC]
Click click bu ya! Dub kicked the frame in (uh huh)
Nigga let the games begin, as I standin'
Tossed the tall can on a campus off the limital
scanners takin' penitentiary chances
Sick wit it, off the ric wit it
Blue beenie knitted; freshly acquitted
Grind-grimey, the thick body and the big body
Wit lyrics and 'draulics hotter than the Majave
Sellin', brubble bellin', career felon
Escalade 3-braid beard wearin'
Fuck it, I thug for free and thug to eat
Niggas call me 'Home of Cake' cause I love the cheese
Gangstas, hustlas, pimps, if ya follow me
Let me see ya put them hands up like a robbery
I solemnly swear to stay down and slang the seed
I spit in the name of the streets
[Chorus: Nate Dogg + WC]
I'm gonna roll (I'm gonna roll)
I'm gon' stay fly (I'm gonna stay fly)
I'm gonna bust (I'm gonna bust)
Hold my hood up high (throw my hood up high)
In the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll (I'm gonna roll)
I'm gon' rich ride (I'm goin' rich ride)
I'm gonna ball (I'm gonna ball)
Hold my hood up high
In the name of the streets
[Verse: Snoop Dogg]
This the itty-bitty nigga from the city they call LB
What you know about the D-O-G?
I keep my peeps wit a bag a' treats
On the streets my nephews beat your beat and keep that heat
In the Cutt and indiscrete
Me and Dub-C crippin' couzins in this industry
A lotta' y'all pretend to be
Wanna see friends wit me and then sleep wit the enemy?
Want some, get some, bad enough take some
Suckas poppin' off I'm 'bout to take one
Braids on, make done, don't want none
And just cause we talkin', what you doin' C-Walking?
It's not just a dance it's a way a' living
Now if ya C-Walking, ya best to 'see' Crippin'
And that goes for kids too, and R&B; singers
Nigga quit Crip-Walking if ya ain't a gang banger
[Chorus]
[Bridge: Nate Dogg]
I told a woman I don't love her but she wants to go
I told another that I want her but she wants to hoe
I ain't a hater I'm a player so I fucked 'em both
In the name of the streets
[Verse: Xzibit]
High resolution, high definition
Let the tape roll let the whole world listen
Hold your position, don't go backwards
I'm frontlining and the West keep shining
Fuck wit ya nigga your boy 'X' still grindin'
Fuck them other niggas they just high siding
Talking and lie, bitchin' and cry
Gossip and hate but ain't nobody's right
Fuck going diamond if ya make it turn pussy
Don't push me, peep game like a booky
The hook lining singer, the deep thinker
Ego auto-biography beat it nigga ya bother me
Glass hit them hard, take no prisoners
Been choiced for the voice
I speak for my people like a Senator
Raise up, the blunts get blazed up
Swing like a gorilla nigga you ain't a king, c'mon!
[Chorus]
[Outro]
[*Nate Dogg in background] Dah-dah-daaah
Yea . . . Lah-dah-daaah
Dub-C . . . Dah-dah-daaah
The 'Ghetto Heisman' . . .
[Nate Dogg:] In the name of the streets
Swangin' through a hood near you [*over last line of outro] Dah-dah-daaah

[whip sounds] Ha ha!
[W.C.]
It's been a minute that I've been sittin up in this cell
Thinkin of many ways that I can get paid escapin jail
My life is like a football game, I'm movin the chains
Tryin to score so I could maneuver the Range
I hear police callin my name, I ball in no lane
Tryin to hit the wall, make the ghetto hall of fame
It's third and long, got a lot of yards to gain
I'm federal, youse a misdemeanor, you small change
It's that, S-W-A-N-G affiliate
From the penitentiary to the club, love I'm sendin it
Turn me out and throw it up and get your boogie on
And let me see those fingers in the sky if you feelin it
I'm sick, and ain't no curin me, maximum security
can't stop my back bumper draggin through your community
Process me, lock me down, level me hard kid
I still come out swingin like Ron Artest, nigga
[whip sounds] Ha ha!
[Chorus: Nelly]
Is it the concrete, or the walls
Maybe it's the bars, might be the guards
Nigga this is LOCKDOWN - lock 'em down, lock 'em down
This is LOCKDOWN - lock 'em down, lock 'em down
Is it the concrete, or the walls
Maybe it's the bars, might be the guards
Nigga this is LOCKDOWN - I'm 'bout to whip yo' ass mayne
[whip sounds] Ha ha!
[W.C.]
Nigga the bang bang get up
Skip skippin through the lane, swang, look at Dub
Swangin, still feelin 'em all, I can't wait to get out
When I touch-down nia I'ma turn shit out
Looka there, biddy-by-by, buh-by-by beddy-bye nigga
Lights out, Dub and Nelly 'bout to shut the lights off
C-walkin on the industry, spittin with all my energy
Dedicated to my niggaz in the penitentiary
Ladies bounce to this, sip Cris', get drunk to this
Refs walks to this, dawgs thump to this
On my mind is my fetti, itchin for the day
that I can parole and jack the nose on a Chevy
Three-wheel to the St. Lou' and connect with Nelly
Jump in the Escalade on them deuce-four Pirellis, nigga
Money is freedom and freedom is cash
And anything between me and my freedom I'll whup an ass
[whip sounds] Ha ha!
[Chorus]
[W.C.]
Yeah, Dub stay chuckin the pavement, I'm anti-general populated
Hood related, the industry most hated
Cause I ball greedy and rhyme for mine (c'mon) I'm willin to die for mine
(c'mon) While haters hate from the sideline
I'm like Fabolous, I make you 'Breathe' hard, leavin ya bleedin and scarred
PC'd up on the sensitive knee guard
Dub Central ain't no surrender, spit for repetitive offenders
Facin D.A.'s with public defenders nigga
[whip sounds] Ha ha!
[Chorus]