Lyrics Los Angeles Daze - People Under The Stairs

Los Angeles Daze

Check it… People Under The Stairs… Double K…
Thes One…
Putting it down… the way it should be…
For two…
The way it should’ve been…
L.A. style…
We gonna do it…
The West style…
Me and Thes…
Hip-hop…
You… Two, one…
For everybody…
Ask why and we’re be so while…
‘Cause I’m rough and I’m tough…
In a b-boy stance… and I come from L.A. (x2… then scratched together)
Crescent Heights city, yeah, that’s where I’m from
A gang of wild-ass niggas that don’t back down to run
And supposed to perpetrate on bustas that we putting it down
These so-called L.A. fools that ain’t nowhere to be found
I see you throwing up the «W,» but yo, I’m here to trouble you
Of what you listening to-1−3, and that’s 3−1-0, not 3−1-3, so get it right…
Bust it… yo, we makin' dope like Hoover and Pico, move slow
Be polite and everything’ll be alright, despite what other niggas say
Yo, this where it at, them other West Coast faggots, yo, where they at?
Word to MC Ren, I showed them people that you wack
Peace to the real crews defacing walls on backstreets
In the city of set, porch, halls, and swap meets
From the school of hard knocks, the generation passed down
Kaiser Permanente, yo, that’s where I was found
In the middle of the funk era, 'fros and dashikis
Pops was putting it down, chilling at the speakeasy
Now I’m posting at Unity with the b-boy stance (word!)
Take a glance and keep walking, yo, you know who it is
I’m from the motherfucking hardest-working group in show biz
If your shit ain’t humping right, don’t even bring it this way
You get booed off the stage, leaving town the next day
Telling your boys, «It is aight, better luck next time
The only thing that was cool: the weed, women, and sunshine»
Forgot to look under the stairs, yo, much more to boast about
Trying to diss and get that ass knocked out
Thes born in South America, moved to South Bay
Run with a crew from Mid-City, that’s where I stay
I’m from L.A., always have been, and always will be capitol
The sprawled up piece stands out like palm trees
Next to pine trees, blowing in the Santa Ana breeze
My DJ’s got fame, underground Rick Dees
I am MC, so bring in funk in five minutes
I jam like the 110 in the ‘84 Olympics
Keep the rhyme moving like the Unity location
Rap has been my vocation
Since before the Japanese owned the radio station
That’s why they Fired Jay Thomas
I keep it fattened like the llama, yo, I promise
Never stop, never change, like the price at Dodger Stadium
I blow up, rock free shows at the Palladium
Afterwards, the crew I’m taking ‘em to Tommy’s Burgers
Gotta be for every Los Angelino Murder
A rhyme for every burglar, Thes a well-worder
It comes together in a freeway like East LA merger
That means you’ll get no pay, but I urge you
Keep ya eye on L.A. like Chuck Henry, word
You heard of someone better?
Send ‘em our way
He get done the L.A. Way, the drive-by way…
‘Cause I’m rough and I’m tough…
In a b-boy stance… and I come from L.A. (all scratched together)
Check it… everyone in my town think they got flows
Thes serve more wack MCs than waitresses at Roscoe’s
You know me, at the graveyard shift, gettin spliffed
We can take it downtown like Figueroa and 5th
And after that, I’m heading up to El Cholo for some dinner
Bustin' through the inner-city underground like the red line
Thinner than the line at car wash in El Niño
That’s you son, see no time in this locale
Underground, down, talking ‘bout, «Yo, I’m keepin it real!»
I’m coming with the Walkman and tapes, not steel
Not a .22, .45, but a 9, Double O, 6
Put it on your letter to the better, lick a stamp, send it
And mail a letter to Thes, L.A. legend like Fernando Valenzuela
Yes, he never ran in a battle, yes
He be smoking beedis, watching the sun set from Sunset
Ay-yo, we got rappers walking around, shook like earthquakes
Blame it on San Andreas, it was a fault you had to wait
To grab the steel, how you feel?
Ain’t even got skills to represent
The City of Angels, my whole team is heaven sent
Getting shit accomplished, yo, check the way we rock this
Like the Raiders in ‘88, fool, you can’t stop us
Like gang-banging, this shit’ll be banging for centuries
Imperial groups spreading like bank robberies
Over the Southland, we put the funk in your trunk
To bump hard, like 808s, sorry you had to wait
But we was digging in the crates, no fear, it’s here
Shady like MacArthur Park, don’t get caught after dark
Might never come back, see, sometimes it’s like that
Some niggas carry a gat, some niggas use their head
But the smartest of the smartest’ll still come out dead
It’s true it ain’t where you’re from, it’s where you’re at
But you’ll still get caught up wearing the wrong colored-hat
And on that note, everybody shut the fuck up and kick it
Spliffted, whatever you do, make sure you don’t miss it
‘Cause we coming like the end, yo, it’s just about wax
So watch out, we bringing bad luck like Wilshire and Fairfax
And it’s just like that, so check it out…
‘Cause I’m rough and I’m tough…
In a b-boy stance… and I come from L.A. (all scratched together)
«Fred, where you from?»
«L.A.»
«Uh oh, uh oh!
Uh oh!
Ask him where he started from…»
California… (repeats)