Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song West Coast Love, artist - Marco Polo. Album song West Coast Love, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 04.11.2013
Record label: Soulspazm
Song language: English
West Coast Love |
| I’m here to regulate, like I was a million |
| Young guns son the rap game, silly soul |
| Roll up the Philly slow, snatch the nine millie |
| And hit the Wild West, shootin' up like Billie |
| This ain’t a kids' game, but it’s like jump rope |
| Up in the ear like I’m blowing on weed smoke |
| Hand over the mouth |
| And poke ‘em in the side with the gat |
| I’m from Compton, nigga, so let’s rock |
| I’m like the man, setting up the scheme |
| But I ain’t in to your money, I’ll be into your dreams |
| Back up in the ride, thirteens on the four |
| Keep the gat on the floor just in case I gotta show |
| Couple a niggas frown, I laugh my ass off |
| Tight-ass jeans, niggas you so soft |
| You get tossed right out your shoes |
| Compton’s back here, we give ‘em the bad news |
| You know they can’t hang with them lyrical slugs |
| When Marco Polo got the beat on subs |
| Original gang bang niggas from the hub |
| MC Eiht and King Tee showing West Coast love |
| It’s no disguise, with the blue bandanna |
| Thug that spit it in the neighborhood grammar |
| Music to drive by, locus, no digging |
| The West on your coattails, you stay hidden |
| Unforgiven, Eiht got the murder rap |
| Tales in the Hood and rats, a few cats |
| I won’t trade it for the fame and fortune |
| Compton keep it hot, block always scorchin' |
| Hood niggas on the porch still like everyday thang |
| Tre on Ds believe in Deuce Wayne |
| This is a game, no doubt, see the tag |
| Couple niggas crossed-out, so no need to brag |
| Shit you fucking with the best |
| Eiht high, thin nigga, I am the West |
| So niggas give it a rest |
| We take it back to the hood, we’re ready to protest |
| All bullshit aside, there ain’t no competition |
| You fucking with that Hub City, East Coast edition |
| And Marc you had it cooking when we stepped in the kitchen |
| That King Tee seasoning, spice up the vision |
| You see it when your eyeballs glisten |
| The mission, keep ‘em on the dance floor fizzin' (get up) |
| Make these little niggas stop wishing |
| On the fall of an O.G. |
| and hopes of division |
| The West arise like a crimson |
| Tide from the ocean all in slow motion |
| Fuck the criticism and them half-assed notions |
| I pledge with the L, true liquids of motion |
| And that’s all a nigga saying |
| Fuck what the radio playing, that’s gay and |
| I run through that new West thing and start banging man |
| King Tee tripping, well let’s go dipping man |