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Yay, Yay |
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Wassup Kay Slay, Its the big homie E A Ski |
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Ya know, And I brought some West Coast riders with me |
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That'll ride on ya bitch ass |
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You got a problem with Kay, You got a problem with us nigga |
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Ya know, Got MC Ren and the West Coast Kam |
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Hey yo Ren spit it |
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[MC Ren] |
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Nigga who tryin to f**k with the Ville' |
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Grab my dick, F**k this trick and slay my scrill |
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Slap the taste right outta ya grill |
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When I'm f**kin' with Kam and Ski nigga shit is fa real |
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Straight blastin' fools with these West Coast shots |
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Compton and Watts, My Bay niggaz got glocks |
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Niggaz runnin' an yellin' an screamin' an shit an cussin' |
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Ren smoked a blunt while Ski and Kam was bustin' |
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Now you bitch ass niggaz ain't sayin nothin' |
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When we pull to the curb, Nigga stop gruntin' |
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This West Coast shit, Cant be f**ked with |
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Or duplicated, You bitches can hate it |
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Mothaf**kin Villian is back with Ski |
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While he blast with his back to me |
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West Coast drive-by, it happens like everyday |
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Bitch ass mothaf**kas gettin' chased away |
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It go |
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[Chorus: MC Ren] |
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Woop, Woop |
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Thats them f**kin' police |
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Woop, Woop |
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Them bitches comin' for me |
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You know the West gone ride |
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Nigga hit'em up |
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Bitches run from the drive-by |
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When we pass by |
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Nigga |
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Woop, Woop |
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Thats them f**kin' police |
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Woop, Woop |
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Them bitches comin' for me |
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You know the West gone ride |
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Nigga hit'em up |
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Bitches run from the drive-by |
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When we pass by |
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[E A Ski] |
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I've been known for the AK, Glocks, and Tech's |
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Hit ya block up, Leave a nigga soakin' wet |
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So I'd watch niggaz scatter like roaches with the lights on |
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You on the block, But you won't make it back home |
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You better hope that this bullet got God in it, (Pray) |
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And I miss, When I got my f**kin' eye on it |
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And I'm shootin' to blow the back and the spine out |
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It's all real, I would hate for you to find out |
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Who the f**k makes it happen |
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Uhh, Its West Side nigga, This drive-by is whats crackin' |
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And the corners is gettin' caught off |
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The funeral homes is gettin' rich off the costs |
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Dogg, Lay you flat down |
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Empty out the clips 'til you hear the (Click) sound |
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Uh-huh, You better know who the f**k you dealin' with, (Who's that) |
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It's Mr. Ski, The West Coast Kill-A-Bitch |
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[Chorus] |
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[Kam] |
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Niggaz hate me for the bank I'm foldin' |
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The rank I'm holdin' |
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The dank I'm polin' |
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They just hate to see a gangsta rollin' |
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I gutter ball like I'm bowling, Collectin' my ends |
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Tryin' to throw strikes at all these redneck white pins |
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In the Beamer or the Benz, Wagon or the truck |
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'Til my people delevered, Man I don't give a f**k |
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Stay pushin' the line with mine |
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Treat peeps I'm with good |
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Anti-Hollywood and I keep my shit hood |
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A true thug, Ya gotta admit it |
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I bail into a club tennis shoes, jeans, white tee and a fitted |
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Tryin' to get it crackin', Wassup, I'm sayin' |
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You tryin' to go or what, I mean, You playin' |
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Dyke girls actin' like niggas, Niggaz actin' like bitches |
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So I just kick back and keep stackin' my riches |
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Focus on my chips and give niggaz real talk |
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So Bloods can skip to it and the Crips can still walk |
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[Chorus] |
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[MC Ren] |
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It go |
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Woop, Woop |
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Thats them f**kin' police |
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Woop, Woop |
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Them bitches comin' for me |
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You know the West gone ride |
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Nigga hit'em up |
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Bitches run from the drive-by |
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When we pass by |
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Nigga, When we pass by |
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Nigga, When we pass by |
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You bitches run from the drive-by |
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Drive-by, Bitches run from the drive-by |
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Drive-by |