| Welcome to the West Coast
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| Where we ball, ride on fags
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| Sittin' back, cuz been working right
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| (Now let me you bounce) bounce (bounce) bounce
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| (Bounce) bounce (bounce) bounce, bounce, bounce
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| We’ve been working right (Calico stand up)
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| Now ever since a nigga was a seed
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| Only thing promised to me was the penitentiary, still ballin'
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| Ridin on these niggas cause they lame
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| In a six-one Chevy, still heavy in this game, can you feel me?
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| Blame it on my momma I’m a thug nigga
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| Up befo' the sun rise, quicker than the drug dealers
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| Tell me if it’s on, nigga then we first to bomb
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| Bust on these bitch-made niggas hit 'em up, WESTSIDE
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| Ain’t nobody love me as a broke nigga
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| Finger on the trigger Lord forgive me if I smoke niggas
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| I love my females strapped, no fuckin from the back
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| I get my currency in stacks, California’s where I’m at — right?
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| Passed by while these niggas wonder by
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| I got shot but didn’t die, let 'em see who’s next to try
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| Did I cry, hell nah, nigga tear I shed
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| For all my homies in the pen, many peers dead, niggas still ballin
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| Ok, cash C-note, blasting me through your door
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| Flew from the old, cross seas for the blow
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| Weed’s federal, better roll in the tape
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| Your armored truck stuck, cuz I’m taking the bass
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| But to be quite frank, taking over this world
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| I want best of both shines like diamonds and pearls
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| Never gave a fuck though, and paybacks a bitch
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| If I see my luck sold, then I’mma bag some kids
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| You know how it bad it is, half a g, an old scheme
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| Squeeze, play to rehab, cuz it’s part of they plea
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| Surf the world to find material, harder than me
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| But I’m bigger than life, son, so what’s what’s larger than me?
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| Flaudelently, haters be claiming they guns hit
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| Knowing they ain’t done shit, except go when the gun spit
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| Now who, retaliates, with the strip for the streets
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| I got peeps that conviscate with the strength of the heat, holla
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| Aiyo, I came in the game, like a thief in the night
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| And ya’ll sucka MC’s, ya’ll be try’nna be bite
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| My whole style and my format, niggas should fall back
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| When I attack the mack, stay live and direct, I wreck
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| Set, keeping ya bitch wet, it’s no sweat
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| Whenever I’m around you, your mind is weak
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| I speak the truth when I spit, ain’t coming to talk shit
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| Yo, I’m live and direct, coming to stalk shit
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| What, come on, bitch, yeah, enter my zone
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| You can’t imagine how my four-speed's ever so deadly
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| I swing swords, I hit you in your fucking head piece
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| Cuz you fronted on Don, and now you dying in hell
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| Spit my name, can’t beat my tell, nigga, what’s felt?
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| To the lost generation of rap, my niggas locked down
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| Whoever feel trapped, grab ya gat, quick, shoot ya where I plotted the bitch
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| Never let 'em hold you back, this is strictly the Don
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| If you ever front on me, nigga, I’m breaking your arm
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| Bees in the winter, enemies better be gone
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| Fuck all of the fly shit, ya’ll Hollywood… |