[ VERSE 1 ] Introducin the Westside Strangler, bangin with the fixtures Mashin in this hot Coupe De Ville with blue twisters I just got it waxed, now I'm true without a doubt Dippin down Alondra on my way to the south The big homie [Name] bet a g, a whole ounce He said it wasn't hot, I made him watch the back-bounce Ah, back in traffic, feelin like the last pimp Hit the three-wheel, made a left on Kemp I dropped by my old crib just to see it's all good The little homies moved in the spot with Lil' Wood See, niggas this way don't give a damn about you hoes We find real estate in the midst of robbin yo's With Benzis and trucks, plenty cavi for the clucks Keep a eye on who's who and muthafuck what's what For all gees who got it poppin in they hood for the moment It's the gangsta King T, show me love loc, cause I'ma speak on it
[ CHORUS ] Ah, that's that gee shit (mobbin through your hood) Move on gangstas, move on Move on gangstas, move on Ah, that's that gee shit (mobbin through your hood) Groove on hustlers, groove on Groove on hustlers, groove on
[ VERSE 2 ] Man, the night comes and a gangsta's intuition I hops in my 'burban, limited edition I'm lookin for a Lakewood hoe, that's my mission I'm through with fuckin Hawthorne tramps, they be snitchin What will it be, Pepper's or that spot Paradise? They keep a flock of girls but you gotta dress nice Suckers, I'm a gee, I got some ( ? ) I ain't touched Feathered Borsalinos with Armani in my clutch Nigga what, raised by ballers, I'm legit And if you don't believe, ask Freeway Rick You don't believe Rick, well ask my homie Big Jess Or his brother Big Droop, OG's, nothin less It's many niggas drinkin that gangsta juice But I done seen none of y'all when it was time to truce And I was at [Name] Park squashin beef with opponents While your ass was at your mansion eatin pussy punk, speak on it
[ CHORUS ]
[ VERSE 3 ] These busters better recognize what's comin Dancin on D's with the Alpine humpin Every since the child knew the ways to live foul Now I bust rhymes like a cool criminal Alcoholic chronic-smokin niggas know the deal Gun-totin, mouth-tapin niggas know I'm real I represent the West to the fullest extent A Southern California Hub City resident Yes yes y'all, it's not a secret no more I got lyrics out the ass and they all hardcore Like that, comin with that West Coast strap Guaranteed to civilize a nigga talkin smack What you wanna do us, do your dance like you do it This one's for my people up in Texas, watch em screw it Tight conversation hits the speakers for the moment But if your ass can't comprehend fool, speak on it
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Copy to Clipboard: [ VERSE 1 ] Introducin the Westside Strangler, bangin with the fixtures Mashin in this hot Coupe De Ville with blue twisters I just got it waxed, now I'm true without a doubt Dippin down Alondra on my way to the south The big homie [Name] bet a g, a whole ounce He said it wasn't hot, I made him watch the back-bounce Ah, back in traffic, feelin like the last pimp Hit the three-wheel, made a left on Kemp I dropped by my old crib just to see it's all good The little homies moved in the spot with Lil' Wood See, niggas this way don't give a damn about you hoes We find real estate in the midst of robbin yo's With Benzis and trucks, plenty cavi for the clucks Keep a eye on who's who and muthafuck what's what For all gees who got it poppin in they hood for the moment It's the gangsta King T, show me love loc, cause I'ma speak on it
[ CHORUS ] Ah, that's that gee shit (mobbin through your hood) Move on gangstas, move on Move on gangstas, move on Ah, that's that gee shit (mobbin through your hood) Groove on hustlers, groove on Groove on hustlers, groove on
[ VERSE 2 ] Man, the night comes and a gangsta's intuition I hops in my 'burban, limited edition I'm lookin for a Lakewood hoe, that's my mission I'm through with fuckin Hawthorne tramps, they be snitchin What will it be, Pepper's or that spot Paradise? They keep a flock of girls but you gotta dress nice Suckers, I'm a gee, I got some ( ? ) I ain't touched Feathered Borsalinos with Armani in my clutch Nigga what, raised by ballers, I'm legit And if you don't believe, ask Freeway Rick You don't believe Rick, well ask my homie Big Jess Or his brother Big Droop, OG's, nothin less It's many niggas drinkin that gangsta juice But I done seen none of y'all when it was time to truce And I was at [Name] Park squashin beef with opponents While your ass was at your mansion eatin pussy punk, speak on it
[ CHORUS ]
[ VERSE 3 ] These busters better recognize what's comin Dancin on D's with the Alpine humpin Every since the child knew the ways to live foul Now I bust rhymes like a cool criminal Alcoholic chronic-smokin niggas know the deal Gun-totin, mouth-tapin niggas know I'm real I represent the West to the fullest extent A Southern California Hub City resident Yes yes y'all, it's not a secret no more I got lyrics out the ass and they all hardcore Like that, comin with that West Coast strap Guaranteed to civilize a nigga talkin smack What you wanna do us, do your dance like you do it This one's for my people up in Texas, watch em screw it Tight conversation hits the speakers for the moment But if your ass can't comprehend fool, speak on it
[ CHORUS ]
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