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Every since we dropped down |
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We noticed radio didn't wanna swing with the locs |
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So like riders we swung with the gees |
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From Jesse Owens to Manchester Park |
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From Will Rodgers to Green Meadows Park |
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S.C.C. put it down for them 10% of real niggas |
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Keep droppin em, from the shoulders |
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What's up Treach? |
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West coast for life |
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Yeah |
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[VERSE 1: Havikk the Rhime Son] |
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As I jumps up thinkin to myself it's another day |
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Find myself reminiscin on the 1970s |
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Had the swimming pool and at the park on deck |
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Even if you gangbanged it didn't matter what set |
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Doin flips, hittin dips, mobbin to the sto' later |
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Grabs the Bubble Yum, Jolly Ranchers, Now-Laters |
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Jesse Owens Park was the spot to hang |
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Retaliation from the shoulders is the name of the game |
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Didn't need to pack the fo', put the nine on your hipster |
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Bang and gettin high, slap-boxin, yeah, a g-ster |
|
Manchester Park, I remember summer school lunches |
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Mobbin to the park off in bunches |
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Mom's chillin out with her sister and pops |
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Kaos in the front gettin sweated by cops |
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Shootin hoops at the [?], take the bus to the movies |
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With yo gees, damn I miss the 1970s |
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[CHORUS: L.V.] |
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Time after time |
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I know we can change your mind |
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(Ain't nothin goin on but the bomb) |
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Kickin game with the S.C.C. |
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(Ain't nothin goin on but the bomb rap song) |
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I know we can break it down |
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(Ain't nothin goin on but the bomb) |
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It's the bomb, so won't you swing it with me |
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[VERSE 2: Prode'je] |
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It's one for the hoods all across the ghettos |
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From Will Rodgers Park all the way to Green Meadows |
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The Cartel's back, put the gats in the stash, gee |
|
Let your sounds bounce as we mob through the '90s |
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Like we used to roll 40 deep in the '80s |
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30 O.G.'s and about 10 ladies |
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Chillin at the park with the loud conversation |
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Homies gettin blazed and the [?] givin [?] |
|
Mr. Prod's from the S.C. |
|
Hittin dips through your hood in my '86 Caddy |
|
I used to roll a 64 on gold d's |
|
But everywhere I went I had to have some O.G.'s |
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Leanin to the side in a gangster lean |
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Mad-doggin player-haters cause they quick to scheme |
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So i sold it got a Coupe De Ville, now I'm dippin forever |
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And yeah, the Cartel still together |
|
[CHORUS] |
|
[VERSE 3: Havikk the Rhime Son] |
|
Summertime goes and comes, it's the '90s |
|
6-4's drop and the tops chop, trunk got that bump |
|
Gold d's cause the gees got it poppin |
|
From S.C. to L.B. to Compton |
|
Chip Motorola, 'yac and herb |
|
It gets crucial drive-by's jumpin off daily |
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And your lady might be your lady for a minute |
|
But once you slip, gee, your homeboy's all up in it |
|
[ Prode'je ] |
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And I'ma keep movin through the six and the seven |
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Motivatin hoods cause it's all to the good |
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As we circle every hood like the solar system |
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Droppin dialect on the rhythm |
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The wisdom leavin pink panties marinatin |
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Escapin the 95 L Coupe skatin |
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Cause though I'm still g-ed I'm a player for life |
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It's '96 and Cartel still bringin the hits |
|
[CHORUS] |
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Are you ready |
|
For the time of your life |
|
Everybody stand up |
|
Stand up |
|
Are you ready |
|
For the time of your life |
|
Stand up |
|
Stand up |
|
Are you ready |
|
For the time of your life |
|
Stand up, yeah |
|
Then stand up |
|
Are you ready |
|
(are you ready) |
|
Said are you ready |
|
(are you ready) |
|
Are you ready |
|
(are you ready) |
|
For the ride of your life |
|
Ready |
|
(ready) |
|
I said are you ready |
|
(are you ready) |
|
Ready for the time of your life |