Lyrics La9x - People Under The Stairs

La9x

Yo, ayayay, Thes One, man
You know, the other day I was thinking about, man
The great shit we had coming up, dude, you know?
All that West Coast music?
You know, the NWA all the way all the way down to
The Pharcyde… remember that, man?
Mark Love used to spin that shit, dude,
it was… yeah, yeah, you know what I’m talking about, man, you know?
Slapping some skin at Unity, know what I mean?
Checking out them girls at them
parties, you know?
It was all lovely, man
I was just thinking about it the other day, man… lotta people, you know,
they always wanna know… yeah… they wanna know…
Why do I call myself a nigga you ask me?
A product of L.A., NWA
They told me it was KDAY, man, you know I celebrated
Picture DJ Pooh and King Tee getting faded
Before I grabbed the mic, before I got drunk
I was Low Profiling with the funky stuff
I’m from the W.C., paid my dues and all that
I knew that rhyme pays, Raider hats were ball caps
In 1988, Mixmaster Spade
One time, gaffled him up before I got laid
More bounce to the ounce, and I say what counts
I took the funk at a young age in large amounts
Screaming, «Compton's in the house!»
Bobby Jimmy with a critter, not a quitter
The number one West Coast hitter
From Fellowship to DJ Quik, Second To None
Bitch betta have my money!, young niggas having fun
The booty up, the booty up, you can do the booty up!
Jeanine, she’s a dick fiend, stepping to the dope-fiend beat
Never came Too Short, see, I was born to Mack
And I was sworn to rap, a year after '84
Bumping my shit loud, my mama banging on the door
With the «6 in the morning, police at my door
Fresh Adidas squeak across the bathroom floor»
Now here we go, you gotta play this
«Gangsta gangsta!», that’s what they yelling
You better get ready, I’m fitting to act a fool
Cause the Boys in the Hood are always hard
Red or blue, cuz or blood, it just don’t matter
Once upon a time in the projects, yo!
This is for the homies, you can get the ducksick…
This is for the homies, you can get the ducksick…
We had Quality Electronics, belt drives
Numarks, LinearTechs, and Geminis
Melrose, Cracker Breaks, gotta share fries
Mark Luv, Bigga B, Unity Lines
Goof Troop, Majestics, CBS, Hex
USC house party trying to have sex
Gang truce, blue and red, letting off lead
Cut Chemists' striped shirt, four-foot dreads
Big Gulps, beedi smoke, wiling at school
PeAkMiJu on the avenue, ooh!
Hieroglyphics, Plan B, kickflipping ollies
While Mona Lisa sing along to 5 O’Clock Follies
Rob One’s trunk and doubles of Chief Rocka
Pasadena swap, low offer, Mustapha
4-track Tascam, ping-ponging tracks
Ben’s red Corolla with the system in the back
Oh, what a Bizarre Ride, backpack, pants sagging
Hanging out on Pico, why does Martin keep bagging?
Rap Sheet, Backseat, nickel-sack beats
Down-low hookups, freestyling at 3
Like Magic Mountain swap meet, Fresh Jive jeans
I was dreaming when I wrote this, remembering the scene
And L.A., how I love you all, and how much you all mean
I was dreaming when I wrote this, just thinking of the scene
With the world, world ultimate, hot potato, hot, hot potato
Yo' mama’s so fat (how fat is she?), sunbeams, bright side dreams
Listen up, check it, E-Rule's about to wreck it
Pen predator, et cetera, yeah right
Class clown, what time is it?
Make room, for the beats, and beats that bump
Make room, for the something, something and bump
Make room for the mixtapes…
But now I’m an MC… I got the Latin lingo
(funky bilingual… let’s go!)
L.A. (repeated)
Yeah, man, that’s what I’m talking about… You know, school them suckas, man,
let 'em know where we come from, you know?
It ain’t about all that ol' wack
shit they hearing, it’s about what we bring to 'em, you know what I mean?
C’mon, uh c’mon, uh c’mon, uh, L.A.
C’mon, uh c’mon, uh c’mon, and in the Bay!
C’mon, uh c’mon, uh c’mon, uh… uh c’mon
Do the Sen Dog dance, y’all… yo…
Uh, do the Sen Dog dance, y’all… c’mon…
Do the Sen Dog!
(Do the Sen Dog!)
Do the Sen Dog!
(Do the Sen Dog!)
Do the Sen Dog!
(Do the Sen Dog!)