50 Cent, The Game - Westside Story lyrics
50 Cent [Curtis James Jackson III]
[50 Cent, The Game - Westside Story lyrics]
Crip niggas, Blood niggas, S.A.'s, Asians
Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, White
Boys, Jamaicans
Latin Kings, Disciples, Vicelords, Hatians
All these mother fuckers
Been patiently waiting
Since the west coast fell off
The streets been watching
The west coast never fell off
I was asleep in Compton
Aftermath been here the beats been knocking
Nate Dogg doing his thing DPG still poppin
I got California love fucking bitches
To that Pac shit
And westside connection been had
It locked bitch
I'm in the rear view my guns is cocking
I'll put red dots on that
Nigga head like rodman
All stars, phat laces, gun
Charge, court cases
Fought that, not guilty I'm back
Niggas hate me been there
Done that, sold crack
Got jacked, got shot, came back
Jumped on Dre's back, payback
Homie I'll bring your CA back
And I don't do button up
Shirts or drive Maybacks
All u old record labels trying to advance
Aftermath bitch take it like
A motherfucking man
If you take a look in my eyes
You see I'll be a gangster till I die
That California chronic got me so high
Game tell them where your from
Nigga westside!
I'm lowridin homie, 6 Tre impala
Gold d spinning, chrome hydraulics
Run up on my low-low you stop breathing
Hollow tips make niggas
Disappear like Houdini
Gang banging is real
Homie I'm living proof like Snoop Dogg C
Walking on top of the devils roof
Rap critics wanna converse, about
This and that
Cause red strings in this converse
And this a Dre track
Keep jibberin jabbering I'll pull
A .38 magnum
And get the clicking and clacking
You'll homies will wanna know what happened
Come to Compton and see
Thriller like Mike Jackson
I might be Spike Lee, of this gun clapping
Prior to rapping I was drug trafficin
In the dope spot playing John Madden
Homie I ain't bragging, I took five
If u wanna die run up on that black 745
New York New York, big city of dreams
I got my L.A Dodger fitted
On I'm doing my thing
Got me fucking wit G-Unit you
Know the drama that bring
I got niggas in Westside
Compton and Southside Queens
And Buck told me in Cashville I'm
Good when I come through
So I don't gotta tuck in
My chain like DJ Poo
I'm gangster more like Deebo
When he was Zeus
Play bishop I paint that picture
Now who got the juice
You niggas is nuts so, I take off your roof
Leave your ass steched out
Like a Cadillac Coupe
God gotta let me in heaven all
The shit I been through
I was an OG in the hood before I turned 22
Homie I'll let the .38 special
Rip through that vest
And I don't contemplate whether or not he
Left that shit on the dresser
Got Compton on my back
I'm starting to feel the pressure
I'm lyrically Kool G. Rap
On these Dre Records
Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, White
Boys, Jamaicans
Latin Kings, Disciples, Vicelords, Hatians
All these mother fuckers
Been patiently waiting
Since the west coast fell off
The streets been watching
The west coast never fell off
I was asleep in Compton
Aftermath been here the beats been knocking
Nate Dogg doing his thing DPG still poppin
I got California love fucking bitches
To that Pac shit
And westside connection been had
It locked bitch
I'm in the rear view my guns is cocking
I'll put red dots on that
Nigga head like rodman
All stars, phat laces, gun
Charge, court cases
Fought that, not guilty I'm back
Niggas hate me been there
Done that, sold crack
Got jacked, got shot, came back
Jumped on Dre's back, payback
Homie I'll bring your CA back
And I don't do button up
Shirts or drive Maybacks
All u old record labels trying to advance
Aftermath bitch take it like
A motherfucking man
If you take a look in my eyes
You see I'll be a gangster till I die
That California chronic got me so high
Game tell them where your from
Nigga westside!
I'm lowridin homie, 6 Tre impala
Gold d spinning, chrome hydraulics
Run up on my low-low you stop breathing
Hollow tips make niggas
Disappear like Houdini
Gang banging is real
Homie I'm living proof like Snoop Dogg C
Walking on top of the devils roof
Rap critics wanna converse, about
This and that
Cause red strings in this converse
And this a Dre track
Keep jibberin jabbering I'll pull
A .38 magnum
And get the clicking and clacking
You'll homies will wanna know what happened
Come to Compton and see
Thriller like Mike Jackson
I might be Spike Lee, of this gun clapping
Prior to rapping I was drug trafficin
In the dope spot playing John Madden
Homie I ain't bragging, I took five
If u wanna die run up on that black 745
New York New York, big city of dreams
I got my L.A Dodger fitted
On I'm doing my thing
Got me fucking wit G-Unit you
Know the drama that bring
I got niggas in Westside
Compton and Southside Queens
And Buck told me in Cashville I'm
Good when I come through
So I don't gotta tuck in
My chain like DJ Poo
I'm gangster more like Deebo
When he was Zeus
Play bishop I paint that picture
Now who got the juice
You niggas is nuts so, I take off your roof
Leave your ass steched out
Like a Cadillac Coupe
God gotta let me in heaven all
The shit I been through
I was an OG in the hood before I turned 22
Homie I'll let the .38 special
Rip through that vest
And I don't contemplate whether or not he
Left that shit on the dresser
Got Compton on my back
I'm starting to feel the pressure
I'm lyrically Kool G. Rap
On these Dre Records