|
|
Intro: Ice Cube
|
|
Living in a California cage, ya'll trying to study me
|
Gangbangin' a never die, it's too much love
|
You always gonna get niggas like us, you know what I mean
|
Got damn, how many more motherfuckin' penatentaries ya'll gonna build
|
How many jars you gonna try to put us in
|
You know what I'm saying
|
|
Can't none of ya'll niggas fuck with none of these niggas
|
These triggas we's killas
|
Sittin' on the porch in between legs
|
Wit a bitch French braiding my head
|
Leave 'em til they matted forearm tatted
|
What's the Connection bitch you looking at it
|
It don't stop
|
I hit mo' licks than it takes to get to the center of a blow pop
|
And it's gonna take a miracle
|
To drive a car this color down Imperial
|
Yeah, I got heart but ain't trying to see Marcia Clark
|
|
[W.C.]
|
|
Who's that dumpin' out that window hoo riding
|
nobody survives when I got my steel up
|
Throwing my shit up pulling the trigga what the
|
fuck you looking at nigga true blue
|
When I bust leaving bodies hanging like the tongue
|
on my chucks chalk another one
|
Homicidal in the G ride
|
I swear I'm killing every nigga standing outside
|
letting 'em have it
|
With my double barrel sawed off I'm smoking
|
everybody nigga bitches and all stretch 'em
|
Out in broad daylight muthafuck the witnesses
|
eyes big as golf balls from the funny cigarette
|
as the sun frowns on my forehead
|
I sweat murder which makes me a walking dead
|
man bringing more bad news than shlepp rock
|
when I bust shots
|
W.C. keep the hammer cocked...
|
|
[Mack 10]
|
|
Well, it's the nigga that's housin' the scene
|
I got pounds of green and birds sittin' on the triple beams
|
I put it down on and off the record my flats a
|
double decker, marble floors all checkered
|
Now what can I say every bitch I lay be pure and
|
bombay like Peruvian yae
|
So I brag and I boast man I got the most, man
|
I make more deliveries than the postman
|
My homie Carlito plug me with the amigos an
|
now it's kilos five and six double zeros
|
Now what's next I'm stuck like a Kotex
|
blindin' niggas with the buggas in my Rolex
|
With my aces o-t on a regular basis
|
we got pauveted faces fightin' federal cases
|
cause ain't nothin' reala' than niggas gettin' they scrilla
|
like a gangsta, a killa
|
But Mack I'll be the dope deala
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
The Gangsta, The Killa, And The Dope Dealer
|
Westside Connection |