Crooked I, Eastwood - We Ballin lyrics

[Crooked I, Eastwood - We Ballin lyrics]

Cali-forn-ia! (bounce)
It's about that time, it's the new Row
And I'm at ya
Let the hogs out, these nigggaz is wilding

I gets down with it
Smoke a whole pound with it
Microphone terrorist it's all on
The bounce with it
Fo' pound spit it
Yeah it's heat to your dome
Like what you said nigga
If it's on then it's on
I'ma smash on sight them
Niggaz who want beef
With my Row chain hangin'
And swangin' all wide
G
Niggaz know me, the E-A-S T
I rep the west G, cos we the best see
Now let me see you walk to it
Skip to the left
Skip to the right keep, walking all night
Sixty fo's hop, bounce roll twist g's
And all my niggaz keep smoking
Roll them trees up

To all my niggaz see-sawing, we ballin'
Tweny inch chrome on
The wheels street-crawlin'
Heavy in the club smoking dub we ballin'
Throwin up tha West on Tha Row shot callin'

Nigga get yo back up off the
Wall and keep it gangsta
Cos creepin' and walkin' across my flo'
Will get yo back rubbed

That's my playa hater locater like
Where the punks at?

Whinies, fuck you, fuck you!

Crooked I's with it all, did
It all, spit it all
Paper we can get it all

C'mon Hop, roll skate twist bounce
Get out of them phillies and blaze an ounce
I bring the bounce to your lac
Hit it front and back
I'm g'd to a tee cos I like it like that

Nobody got game colder than me
I call a dumb nigga the lil holme's
Even though they older than me
Cos mentally I'm twice my age
My mind contains
Priceless game, wisdom for weeks
Advice for days
The nights the braids the lights the
Stage the nine the gauge
The knife the blade the live
Grenades the heists the raids
This gangsta life we made, the price we pay
Give us paper, we might behave, you know?
You try to invade, inside of a grave you go!
In spite of the ways
This rider remains to grow
+Uh Oh+ nigga one rifle blastin
That'll make you spinnin around like
A young Michael Jackson
The LBC and me
Gangsta walk when we up in the party
You gangstaz talk shit and
Your body catches three
The C-R double O K-E-D, motherfucker

Westcoast we ballin', shot-callin'
Crooked I and that young nigga Eastwood
Representing the new Westcoast, you know?
Weenies, dig that! All in yo mouth with it

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