[Ras Kass]
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Strike three, hehe
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It's-just-thug-men-tal-i-ty, nigga..
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Ha, YEAHHH, ha, yeah-YEAHHH, uh-uhh, uhh..
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Ras Kass register Richter with nine point eight tectonic plate quakes
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Firm rubber no breaks, California plates Golden State
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Catch me sittin on the roof, bumpin Snoop
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"Gin and Juice" reminiscin bout the rides and gang truce
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Seventy degrees in the winter - tropical weather
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and vendettas cause L.A. niggaz be all about they cheddar
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Hoochie bitches and B.G.'s too big for they britches
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Curb servin, they double up to get richer
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Fuck around them lil' niggaz comin to get'cha and get wit'cha
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Dump until six hit'cha, don't let the sunshine and palm trees
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fool you get the picture, niggaz be in Hollywood thinkin it's all good
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But everything South of Wilshire, is all hood
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Niggaz committin murder
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Later that night at Tommy's eatin a chili-cheese burger
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Menace II Society, seen that
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Kobe and Shaq - Lakers bout to bring the championship ring back
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From Ladera Heights to Venice Beach
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Dime pieces with BMW leases and Cartier timepieces
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I was born to raise West coast til my casket drop
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Throw up a dub, spittin at the camera like 'Pac, ptooey
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Chorus: Ras Kass (repeat 2X)
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Would y'all get down for me, I'ma represent my town
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so y'all represent y'all town for me
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If a G's gettin made, put it down with me
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Homey that's a West Coast Mentality
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[Ras Kass]
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Three-hundred and ten angels, flossin nine-hundred and nine fdangles(?)
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Two-hundred and thirteen sets to gangbang too
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Three-hundred and twenty-three hungry homies want steak
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Never been greedy, if I ate/eight, one-eight (donate)
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So if I gotta choose a coast, I got to choose the West
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Born and raised out there, so don't - go there
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Oh yeah, I'm the illest nigga, clownin y'all fools
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with everything y'all say like Luther Luffeigh
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I swoop through L.A. hoe, bendin y'all bitches like clay dough
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Fuck what you say doe, these streets are fatal pendejo
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So everywhere I go I take West coast with me
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Home of the driveby, Thug Life and dickies
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What you know about silk shirts (huh?)
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Cross corded snakeskin belts, flippin off the front porch
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Lesson number one - niggaz don't give a fuck
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and lesson number two remember lesson number one
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Chorus
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[Ras Kass]
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See in L.A., niggaz don't walk, niggaz drive whips with beats
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Weak niggaz trick, most niggaz say bitches ain't shit
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but hoes gotta eat too, they all be at Club Lingerie
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with a gay down to meet you
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But fuck a three-piece suit
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Y'all niggaz dressin like y'all goin to church
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Either me and my homies get in lookin like this or we skert
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(errrrrrrrrr) and if they bullshittin, we just parkin-lot pimpin'
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Sunday night, Jamaican gold, hip-hop and cheeba
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Tuesday lesbian divas be up in Peanuts (what)
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I be fuckin baby girl and her stud
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Plus she said my dick was big, my shit be up in the gut
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Waittress bitch tryin to front like we broke, "Whattup loc?"
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Give me a Henn' and O.J. without slashin Nicole's throat
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C-arson nigga, I'm just the illest emcee
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All California Love, rest in peace Bigga B.
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Chorus 2X
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West Coast Mentality
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| Ras Kass |
