Lyrics Connected for Life - Ice Cube, Mack 10, Butch Cassidy

Connected for Life

I jumped out the blocks like ready!
set!
go!
Check all my traps and dodge to Fedco
I’m all up the mix like a fuckin collage
And out in the garage, is a Bentley Onage
With the brains blowed out, so the suns beaming
I got the jackers drooling and the hoes feinding
Since I’m Westside Connected I got a streets on hype
I got big deals, big skrill, big wheels, big pipes
Twenty-inches roll Ђ" goin’get these hoes
Picky hoes — wanna roll with my Negroes
Be a freak about it and I’m a see about it Speak about it, no bitch, I’m a be about it Who want some of this, West running this
Mack 10 with the playboy bunny bitch
She’s a dummy bitch — where the money pit?
You broke ass niggas can’t even stomach this
What that connect like?
Nigga three time felon.
Six-double-0 West selling, rich, rebellin'.
Throw it up;
hold it up, guns bust, four fingers up,
Two twisted in the middle with the thumb cuffed.
Chevy mashin', dipping the ass n’killin’a zaggin.
44'mag'n and toe tagging
Dub the hood phantom and I’m in a blue phantom.
In front of the club, I’m valet, dumpin’a tall can of magnum, trick.
What is it like?
Tossing 'em hoes
And rolling on fools on them fo’s
Flossing 'em chains, we doing big thangs
And busting on punks at close range
This is the way us gangsta’s roll
Sit back and watch as it unfolds
Bitches and suckas done so cold
Ahhh!
This is the life we chose
Dope money and rapping shit I'm all with it And all I know is streets, so this is how I spit it Chicken hawk see a bird, and I gotta get it So if ya hood come up short, then I'd probably did
it and if your momma thick then I gotta hit it The Trojans gotta be a magnum for me to fit it If its sherm on a stick then I probably lit it The red beam is on your wig so I probably split it To all them bitches that
think they bootylicious
I think they nutritious- I think they do dishes
I make 'em three wishes — of takin’they pictures
And spending they riches- I fuck 'em they bitches
Ego-maniac, little homies call me brainiac
Ice Cube is an ass-hole, and it ain’t an act
So take a hit of that — and remember that
Where my motha-fuckin'niggas and my bitches at?
Tr-i-ick I’m W. C, the rider of the clique.
Like a dragon its nothin’but fire when I spit
And I can’t shake these ghetto ways
I street rich nigga eatin’a bag of lays
Some rubber bands some braids
From the turf for the sirens and ambulance
Where we keep the pistols smoking like Afghanistan
It’s the gangsta, the killa, the dope dealer
Back for more figgas-, so trick, bow down and pour the liquor, bitch!
What is it like?
Tossin 'em hos
And rollin’on fools on them vogues
Flossin''em chains, we doin’big thangs
And busting on punks at close range
This is the ways us gangsta’s roll
Sit back and watch as it unfolds
Bitches and suckas done so cold
Ahhh!
This is the life we chose
It’s plain to see you can’t change me Cause I’m a be Connected For Life
Yeah!
Westside Connect gang for life
Butch Cassidy, Manny Fresh you’re a fool for this b-boy
uh, uh, uh