| Hawthorne to Longbeach, haha…
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| Some of that Capone and Dat Nigga Daz shit
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| Smackin y’all niggas upside the head, beyotch
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| Show y’all niggas what it is.
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| Welcome to California where the gang stay
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| Longbeach, Compton to Watts, Hawthorne and L. A
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| Outside we rip-ride, let the slugs fly
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| I maintain just to bang with the gang till the day that I die
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| Get crazy plus looney and insane, on yo' ass
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| First just to blast on yo' ass if yo' ass talkin' trash
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| Cash; |
| she in all them hardy-tardy no (?)
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| They get some get back and get they whole wig peelt back
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| Hangin out on the corner drinkin Sapp
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| Little homies doin things from murders to jackin
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| And they say, («Yo Daz are you a rider?»)
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| And I reply with, «Hell yeah I’m a rider!»
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| Motorola TV’s — 'Lacs on D’s
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| Make us niggas feel good when us niggas got cheese
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| Young niggas robbin niggas for they dope sacks (give it up!)
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| Just to see where they hearts at
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| Smokin weed and loots and hubs, roll around with beat in my truck
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| Roll around with heat in the front, just to dump at two punks
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| 12 gauge sawed-off, thinkin my point across
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| Cooperate nigga or get broke off
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| Ask ya homies how we put it in work
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| Now they here, now they gone, six feet in the dirt
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| Rest in peace to my homie L-Dogg from the DPG
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| Bringin drama to these niggas, bringin drama to the streets
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| Whattcha gonna do if ya wanna hang and bang
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| And move around with those gangstas
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| Whattcha gonna do if ya wanna hang and bang
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| And move around with them gangstas, gangstas!
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| In L.A. ya dress cordial, accordin to the area ya goin to
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| Ya might need to where a black khaki suit standin in grey and blue
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| Ya never know who gon' be waitin, and watchin — plannin and plottin
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| To getcha caught and leave ya shot and forgotten
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| Remember back in the day, Lewsinger high
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| Caught every park in the mornin, school was cool when ya high
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| Knockin niggas on they ass, put a nigga through the glass
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| Capone got there so fast, the motherfuckers crashed
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| And I laugh when I think back on the days of my past
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| My gangsta-ass ways, take a sip like drinkin blaze
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| In the Purple Haze -- finna get my smoke on
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| Two o’clock in the mo’nin with my motherfuckin lotes on
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| Getcha loc' on wit a nigga if ya wit a nigga
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| Hit a nigga up in traffic, then go try and get a nigga
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| Cause I’ll split a nigga with millimeters from heaters
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| Cop killers, case I gotta kill a cop I’ma need 'em to beat 'em
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| They say, «Slip are you a rider?»
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| And I reply, «Hell yeah I’m a rider!»
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| My situation got illy, Kurupt was out in Philly
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| When I hooked up with Daz Dilli, to slap ya silly
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| Make a milli-on, when I drop to Leban-on
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| Mega-tron, Veit-nam, napalm, Bombay bomb
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| It don’t stay calm for long
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| When a nigga livin in a warzone, then the war’s on
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| I’m a king on my throne, so put the crown on my dome
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| And so it read 'Hawthorne: The city where I was born'
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| Till the cows come home, in the southside of L. A
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| The City of Angels, but Hell surround us, all around us
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| Makin it hot, I heat it up, slow my slow and speed it up
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| Flip a rock and give a cut to the homies
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| To get some new chucks to bang in
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| Keep the rag hangin, Cutlass to slang in
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| Got a whole gang of ends
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| Knick-knack patty-whack, give a G a strap
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| If he a G put to work, if he a punk he pass it back
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| You want the AR-15, the Glock 17, the M16 or the uzi 14
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| Mini-machine, with the infrared beam, gangsta lean
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| It’s like a dream to be fresh on the scene, knahmean?
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| Rest in peace to Strak-Lo, keep calm
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| Rest in peace to the homie, NailBoy and radio ridin in peace
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| Whattcha gonna do if ya wanna hang and bang
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| And move around with those gangstas
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| Whattcha gonna do if ya wanna hang and bang
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| And move around with them gangstas, gangstas!
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| Yeah, that’s how we do it
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| Slip Capone and Dat Nigga Daz
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| Funky Fresh '99. |
| yeah haha… |