| Rock got it, Rock came from rock bottom, now I’m on top
|
| Pocket full of guacamole in it, no lie
|
| The windows on the Continental tinted cocaine colored, it’s a dope ride
|
| Them dope boys outside
|
| Gangbangers, crack heads and hood rats
|
| Drug paraphenelia inside that back pack
|
| If you want it we got it, that’s where them goods at
|
| Nickerson Gardens, project parties
|
| Chronic, Hennessey, dro, Bacardi
|
| Guns, enemies that come through, spark them
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| Throw 'em in a dumpster; |
| you loved one, you lost him
|
| I don’t dance I just boogie a lot
|
| No dress code I just wear a hoodie a lot
|
| White tee under that back against the wall
|
| West coast rocking to the beat, now I’m telling y’all
|
| Poke your elbows out and swing like this
|
| Poke your elbows out and swing like this (homie)
|
| Poke your elbows out and swing like this
|
| Poke your elbows out and swing like this
|
| Whatever you want to call it
|
| For the weed heads or for the alcoholics
|
| Now this can be some OG low-rider music
|
| Or you could twist your fingers up and gangbang to it
|
| (gangbang to it)
|
| Look, I know some bad ass bitches that go hard on it
|
| Addicted to that sex, they be traveling in packs
|
| They be off that X, and they’ll let you fuck fast if you got some cess
|
| I ain’t gon lie about it
|
| I ain’t bullshitting, come to my block boy
|
| Welcome to Hell’s kitchen, we bring that heat to you
|
| Too much of a real nigga not to see through you
|
| Wet him like faucet, bullet sink through you
|
| They speed through you, they eat through you
|
| Two lullaby burners, let 'em sing to you
|
| The harmony of it is pleasure to your ears
|
| You got to love it (nah) you got to hate it
|
| I got to be my hometown favourite
|
| Watts representer, say hello to your mayor
|
| Everybody put them Ws in the air
|
| May I show you the plan I lay out
|
| My disc will never play out, I tell y’all to
|
| Poke your elbows out and swing like this
|
| Poke your elbows out and swing like this (homie)
|
| Poke your elbows out and swing like this
|
| Poke your elbows out and swing like this
|
| Whatever you want to call it
|
| For the weed heads or for the alcoholics
|
| Now this can be some OG low-rider music
|
| Or you could twist your fingers up and gangbang to it
|
| (gangbang to it)
|
| Swing your elbows and Taylors, the shell-toes
|
| Kush blunts all in the air, I smell lows
|
| Compton swap meets to freaks on Melrose
|
| This is California, killers on them corners
|
| From Long Beach to Inglewood, Hollywood
|
| Back down, them gangsters will be on you
|
| Block hot as a sauna, uh
|
| We in the club, zonin', Patronin'
|
| My knuckleheads roamin', they on and we on it
|
| It’s jerkin', poppin', brackin', whatever you want to call it
|
| What’s happenin', we smashin', crashin' your hood
|
| My nigga what’s good?
|
| Staying sucker-free, just as well as you should
|
| I pull up in that motherfuckin' big-ass truck
|
| What the fuck? |
| I’m on
|
| Where your bitch? |
| She gone with a real nigga
|
| I hop up out that ho asking how you feel nigga
|
| I press blood; |
| throw your sets up!
|
| Poke your elbows out and swing like this
|
| Poke your elbows out and swing like this (homie)
|
| Poke your elbows out and swing like this
|
| Poke your elbows out and swing like this
|
| Whatever you want to call it
|
| For the weed heads or for the alcoholics
|
| Now this can be some OG low-rider music
|
| Or you could twist your fingers up and gangbang to it
|
| (gangbang to it) |