Lyrics Norte Sidin' - Woodie

Norte Sidin'

Much pride, North side of The Golden State
It’s Woodie-wood from the A-N-T-I-O-C-H
Where the crackback’s potent and the pigs are deep
For every new batch cooked, half the town don’t sleep
And I creep in a sixty-nine 'lark with duals
Barking up the block on Rallyes, chrome shining like jewels
Swinging sideways on highways after aiming for brains
With my eyes all dilated swerving through lanes
Shit’s Gone Strange, but I was up in funk before that
So nothings really changed in this Yoc Life format
Homies gone or doing time so the clique ain’t as deep
But we some Norte Sidin' ridin' on your bumper with heat
With beat quaking out the windows spitting Yoc Life lingo
(That shit’s so tight it makes my ears tingle)
A single shot deuce-deuce is all it takes
To rattle up his brains and kill his parents' mistake
But I prefer to tuck a trey-five-sev in my nuts
So I can hit 'em with a gutshot, fuckin' 'em up
Living in the skirts of the East Bay, Co Co County
Crank and bomb keep the ballers paid
But you can’t fade when the soldiers get to ridin'
Flared up, tearin' it up, Norte Sidin' (Sidin')
Yoc Influenced, what the fuck does it mean?
It’s the reason why I’m cocking back and blowing out your spleen
It could mean that your all about your green and copping zitos
Or rolling on the triple golds and Vogues and servin' vitos, them c-notes
Might have you flossing with your town sewed up
But hit the county, you a bitch or snitch your getting rolled up, swolled up
So I’m a soldier-fied Yoc swinga
A malt liquor drinker, a fuckin' deep thinker
Until I hit the grave, better count me as a factor
Cause I ain’t never been no shootin' blanks Hollywood actor
Prepared and strapped down as I pound through this town
Of a hundred thousand people, fifty thousand living foul
Back in ninety-two only a few of us ridin'
Ninety-three, who are these fools south sidin'?
Ninety-four we kept the pistol chamber smokin'
Ninety-five they realized the Yoc ain’t jokin'
Ninety-six half the homies moved to slangin'
That’s all good, but why’d you fools quit bangin'?
Ninety-seven, fuck it I ain’t even trippin' love the homies that I got even more
And keep dipping let the record state
In ninety-eight, shall I die, write the words
In my obituary for the North side I served
Living life strapped with a target on a scrap
And I’m a hit a bulls-eye cause it’s like that
Woodie’s only hated for the fact I’m gang related
Fuck rappin' 'bout that bullshit, been through too much to fake it