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    [ Young Prod ]
    What's up
    Cartel representin for all the real niggas that represent from both coasts
    East and west, nigga, like that
    To all you bitch-ass niggas dissin this gangsta shit
    Fuck y'all, no love
    What's up, Treach, Kay Gee, Vin-Rock
    Youknowmsayin, puttin it down
    Ill and Al Skratch
    All the west coast homies
    Knowmsayin?
    Let's rock

    [ Young Prod ]
    I felt the slaughter and thought I oughta rip off niggas' faces
    Interphase my razorblades, cause this is gangsta
    Collapse perhaps when a strap split you between your eyes
    40mm infrared beams, homicides
    .45's, .44 Desert Eagles to the skies
    Tec-9s, Mac-10s, the biggest to the smallest size
    And I ride these ghetto streets when I'm high
    L.A.C., S.C.C. d.o.g. and that's right
    I put that on my mama, I hears the drama from the bitch coast
    Killer, better feel a realer nigga from the west coast
    Now just suppose you was on the west coast
    And you got caught up in the drama with the baby locs
    You say it ain't real, but now you're feelin like a hoe
    Cause a nigga 13 done knocked yo ass to the flo'
    [ Rhimeson ]
    Now nigga, what's happenin, it's the cavi and the gee that c-ride
    My chest full of that doja, finna slug, hittin the thai
    The Hen got a nigga brain cells on nutty
    Come with a Tec, roll in a bucket, broke as fuck, yellin "Fuck it!"
    I'm hittin niggas up as I swerve down your block
    Yellin "Cartel", yo westside rider, it don't stop
    Put a slug in a nigga's ass like a c
    Knock him off like a d, beatin his ass like a tree
    Rhimeson regulatin more blocks than Fort Knox
    I'm the baddest batter parlayin clippin up yo blocks
    Drop-top storin glocks, and if the battery's hot, it's on
    Brigades that ice-skates and put marks in funeral homes
    The g shit won't quit, loc, as we dip through
    Loadin clips, fool, for your whole crew, yellin "Fuck you!"
    Gangstas, teams leavin hoes and toes frozen
    Tags in teams rollin and casket doors closin

    [ CHORUS ]
    [ Young Prod ]
    West coast niggas don't give a fuck
    So when you hear that milimeter bust, it be us
    Peepin how you're dissin, sayin our missions ain't real
    But when the Cartel's through, you bitch-ass niggas we gon' still...

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    (Eastside niggas, Westside niggas)
    Now we finna show you how the west coast rocks
    (Westside niggas, Eastside niggas)
    Now we finna show you how the west coast rocks

    [ Prode'je ]
    Like Cube I'ma show you how the west coast rocks
    Put the clips in the glocks and let em go pop-pop
    Eastsider, S.C.G.'s, the representers of the gory
    Keep talkin that shit, you catch a flurry
    I bury muthafuckas, they call me Buckus, not Fuckus
    But I'm quick to put a rush on all you bustas
    Enough is enough is, now who's the fuckin roughest
    The toughest, and in the end, who's gonna need the crutches?
    I said it once before, and I respect the realer niggas
    The realer niggas pullin killer-triggas on the iggas
    It figures, cause who's the bigger niggas when it's payday?
    We parlay and give the props to niggas and what they say
    It's okay, cause gangstas movin deeper to the masses
    Others kissin asses, we comin with the blastes
    We smashes, and kickin at your asses like some stress is
    The gangstas puttin it down for the pound where the west is
    [ Young Prod ]
    When I'm in a low-low rollin slow mo' to the east
    I be a thief like Coolio and roll with 40 Thevz
    Gees in the backseat, clippin up the heat
    I'm leanin out the window, dumpin niggas yellin "Peace!"
    Release hollow-points, splittin between your joints
    Shots explode, eyes close, niggas get my point
    West coast niggas don't give a fuck
    So when you hear that milimeter bust, it be us
    Peepin how you're dissin, sayin our missions ain't real
    But when the Cartel's through, you bitch-ass niggas we gon' still...

    (Eastside niggas, Westside niggas)
    Now we finna show you how the west coast rocks
    (Westside niggas, Eastside niggas)
    Now we finna show you how the west coast rocks

    [ ? ]
    Now I came through the do', I said it befo'
    It's all about that west coast flow and the .44
    So get a grip, niggas dissin best to listen
    Fuck all you hooks, and I ain't talkin about fishin
    Got this mission that I'm completin, and niggas that I'm deletin
    And I'm heatin up your block with the Tec and the infrared glock
    Servin niggas with Mac-10 triggers
    The bigger the nigga size, the bigger the hole he lies in
    Cause that's the lifestyle I'm livin, so I express it in my raps
    For snaps and collapse fools with the straps
    Perhaps the west coast is too hardcore
    Kickin down your front do' with the infrared .44
    Like [name], but on a mission for props
    Everybody hit the flo', no beef no mo'
    [ ? ]
    Nigga, don't expect for us to let that shit ride on this side
    Yeah, you're safe at home, but over here you best to hide
    I'm capable of servin niggas problems with my heater
    I'm down to put the strap down to let my fist met ya
    Niggas don't want no problems now, nigga, you will get broke down
    Nigga, you find yourself dead on the ??? bound
    Cause I get so hot, niggas, you cannot stop me
    West coast comin hard, so your ass best to copy
    Sloppy-ass marks, y'all don't wanna see me
    I throw heat on your ass and bust a cap, cause it's easy
    Keep it real

    [ CHORUS ]

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Tina Weymouth y Hèlio Contreiras

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