Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song West Coast Gangstas, artist - South Central Cartel. Date of issue: 02.08.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
West Coast Gangstas |
| 4 deep on the creep, I gots the Tecs on prraahh. |
| Take the safety off lock, exterminate your block |
| Leavin do' holes with .44's and 20-gauge rifles and Tecs |
| And breakin' niggas' necks like bad checks |
| Outrageous with 12 gauges, 'L.A. |
| Times' front pages |
| Leaving mingled bodies hangin' on stages |
| Collapse niggas with raps, caps niggas with straps |
| Smoking on the bomb, eyes tighter than Japs |
| Rollin' evil with the Desert Eagle, schemin' Young Prod |
| When the squad’s in the house: oh my God, a homicide |
| Is 'bout to committed, admit it |
| You seen the Tec and you shitted |
| Nickel-plate in your face, a .38 |
| Competin, strangle the evil with low blows |
| I dips fo' low with bad hoes, the saga unfolds |
| The S.C. script had to design shit to wreck your mental |
| Bitch, and plant a fuckin' slug in your temple |
| Yeah |
| Chorus: L.V. |
| & PRODEJE |
| The West Coast Gangstas still O.G.'s |
| Sportin' khakis and Chucks and B.V.T's |
| Swervin through your hood in a blue low-low |
| Sportin' Carhartt jeans with a chrome 4−4 |
| Prodeje: |
| G maneouvres, increasin my retaliation |
| Shob niggas provoke could equal to your devastation |
| My motivation is lyrication, the philosophation |
| Acquired by the gangsta’s inspiration |
| Mentally loc’d I’m smokin' tracks like it’s blunted |
| I’m frontin' 'bout .44 mags and G rags |
| My khakis, t-shirt and Chucks stun ya |
| I zap you like a genie |
| You try to escape like Whodini |
| You plastic |
| I’m boombastic like that muthafucka Shaggy |
| The Cartel keeps the groove nasty |
| You tried to fade, but got eleminated, tried the differential |
| But couldn’t fade the fuckin' instrumental |
| My mental compound exploitin' the hoods and towns |
| Breakin' it down, and if you trippin', yo' ass is clowned |
| It’s Mr. Prod comin' cutthroat, live through the wire |
| The West Coast G’s is on fire |
| Chorus: L.V. |
| & PRODEJE |
| The West Coast Gangstas still O.G.'s |
| Sportin' khakis and Chucks and B.V.T's |
| Swervin through your hood in a blue low-low |
| Sportin' Carhartt jeans with a chrome 4−4 |
| Evil Skeem & young prod: |
| Freestylin' to a instrumental in a rental |
| Q-fo'-fever, evil side finna leave a |
| Nigga leakin, blood seekin' for the weekend |
| Headhuntin like a dome-servin' freak and |
| Mental scheme we G’s this, we locs like that |
| We grab Macs and reacts to open niggas' backs |
| Welcome to the dome of terror, the era of the evil side |
| Take niggas out the run like drive-by's |
| Come come, test this, let’s just |
| See yo' face taste ??? |
| just this |
| No mistakin, ??? |
| we’re money-makin' |
| We grab the g’s, get the ki’s and we shake it |
| It ain’t too easy to find me |
| Young Prod run games like _Jumanji_ |
| My 9 blow minds everytime I dump |
| Takin' niggas' chests out and lump |
| Evil Side, servin' muthafuckas from the back to the front |
| Don’t front, so where ya at? |
| In the back of the homie’s 'Lac |
| Cockin' a strap, finna take a muthafucka off the mat |
| I got your back — back at ya, nigga |
| Pull the triggers, slugs to niggas' mugs |
| Forever Evil Side, straight gangsta |
| Chorus: L.V. |
| & PRODEJE |
| The West Coast Gangstas still O.G.'s |
| Sportin' khakis and Chucks and B.V.T's |
| Swervin through your hood in a blue low-low |
| Sportin' Carhartt jeans with a chrome 4−4 |