| Westside
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| East, to the fuckin South
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| Gangstas
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| Hoo-bangin like a G, ready to ride and regulate it all
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| Dippin is essential in the C. when I mad-dog
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| The khakis stay creased and we mob like the nazis
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| 2 niggas are puttin it down, call us the twin John Gottis
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| See hoes on the dick and the hoes are ready to ride
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| But I don’t see nothing wrong, so I hit and shake the spot
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| G’s from the campus leavin a sample of pure funk
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| From the trunk to the ear as the 12 vegas bump
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| I make your head nod as we slide block to block, loc'
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| Chronic got me gone, crack the window to release the smoke
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| Shit, Rhimeson is seein demons
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| Cut the braids, hoes still fiendin for the semen and I’m schemin
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| It’s action-packed shit for your whole fuckin clique
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| West Coast G’s ain’t the niggas to be fuckin with
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| S.C. Cartel dwells in the slums slangin crumbs
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| Test your vest, if you will I let this Nine steel hum
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| BiAtch
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| All day everyday I don’t give a fuck
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| Long as I got on my Khakis, T-shirt and Chucks
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| Rollin through L.A., what do I see?
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| A gang of mo' niggas dressed just like me
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| All day everyday I don’t give a fuck
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| Long as I got on my Khakis, T-shirt and Chucks
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| Rollin through CHICAGO, what do I see?
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| A gang of mo' niggas dressed just like me
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| Rollin in a low-low but I’m not solo
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| My heat is a H.K., underlay the plus A
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| Cappin your ass quicker than a G
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| So that’s who I rolls with when I’m twistin D’s
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| My dress code’s casual, you know the routine
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| Khakis, T-shirt and Chucks lookin hella clean
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| My low-low's wet, so what’s next nigga
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| I can hit a switch and make you wreck nigga
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| Fuckin with a young vet nigga
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| Ain’t nuthin goin on but the gangsta
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| South Central’s finest, Murder Squad’s finest
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| Try to take my low-low, I be seein 24 low-low
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| With a L, that’s on my baby girl
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| You hear these bullets hummin, comin atcha
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| They’ll snatch ya, caught up in a rapture
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| Fuckin with me the O.G. |
| from the S.C., swap meet dweller
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| Quick to pull the heat in your cellar
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| All day everyday I don’t give a fuck
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| Long as I got on my Khakis, T-shirt and Chucks
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| Rollin through ATLANTA, what do I see?
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| A gang of mo' niggas dressed just like me
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| All day everyday I don’t give a fuck
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| Long as I got on my Khakis, T-shirt and Chucks
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| Rollin through ST. |
| LOUIS, what do I see?
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| A gang of mo' niggas dressed just like me
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| Ta-dow! |
| How you like me now
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| As I skate in a rag 8 with Mc Eiht
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| Collectin stripes, dumpin all night
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| We too tight as we ride, slide
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| With the heat on my side
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| A .45'll knock your ass closer to the sky
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| Nigga you best to break fast like juice
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| Lettin 32 loose from the carbon deuce-deuce
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| Fuck a truece, cause when I go y’all gots to bury me
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| In my Chuck T’s, Khakis and B.V.T
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| Y’all feelin me, still a G
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| Cold drop the four and roll to the store for 'gnac
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| I gets bent like that
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| Rata-tat-tat from Mac 10's, hit the corner and spin
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| On them D’s, yellin: 'Fuck you G, nigga this’s S.C.C.'
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| We regulates the S.C., I puts it down for C. C
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| With baby Nine next to me fool, and when we dump
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| We’re head-huntin for punks, so you better try
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| To play rug and lie
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| All day everyday I don’t give a fuck
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| Long as I got on my Khakis, T-shirt and Chucks
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| Rollin through TEXAS, what do I see?
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| A gang of mo' niggas dressed just like me
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| All day everyday I don’t give a fuck
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| Long as I got on my Khakis, T-shirt and Chucks
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| Rollin through OAKLAND, what do I see?
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| A gang of mo' niggas dressed just like me
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| All day everyday I don’t give a fuck
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| Long as I got on my Khakis, T-shirt and Chucks
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| Rollin through ILLTOWN, what do I see?
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| A gang of mo' niggas dressed just like me
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| All day everyday I don’t give a fuck
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| Long as I got on my Khakis, T-shirt and Chucks
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| Rollin through MACKTOWN, what do I see?
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| A gang of mo' niggas dressed just like me
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| All day everyday I don’t give a fuck
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| Long as I got on my Khakis, T-shirt and Chucks
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| All over the WESTCOAST, what do I see?
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| A gang of G niggas dressed just like me |