Some L.A. Niggaz - Dr. Dre, Hittman, Ms. Roq

Yeah nigga, MC Ren up in this motherfucker

(West West y’all)

Yeah, L.A. niggas

L.A. niggas rule the world nigga

Y’all niggas gotta recognize, yaknahmsayin?

Niggas don’t wanna peep game, yaknahmsayin?

But this shit come all the way back around here

My nigga Dre, droppin' heat box on y’all bitch-ass

Yaknahmsayin?

You gotta recognize

L.A. niggas, connected all over the motherfucking world, nigga

Recognize this;

peep game

Now in my younger days I used to sport a rag

Backpack full of cans plus a four-four mag

G’d up from the feet up

Blue’d up from the shoe up’s how I grew up

Loc’n, smokin' and drinkin' til we threw up (until we threw up)

At Leimert Park, taggin', hittin' fools up

Ditching my class, just to fuck yo' school up

You don’t wanna blast, nigga tuck yo' tool up

But don’t sleep, y’all niggas quick to shoot you

Now there’s another motherfucker with no future

But Time Bomb much smoother when I maneuver, dope like Cuba

Got 'em jumpin Disciples to the Hoover

I’m coming «Straight Outta Compton» with a loose cannon

Smoke big green, call it Bruce Banner

Watch your manners, at last another blast from the top notch

From way back with the pop rocks, I pop lock witcha

Picture this, Dr. Dre twisting wit Tha Liks

And Hittman bought a fix

Don’t trip, it’s a Time Bomb in this bitch

Here it tick tick tick tick *boom*

Wait a minute it’s on, I tell it like a true mackadelic

Weed and cocaine sold separate, check it

From sundown to sunup, clown and run up

The Aftermath’ll be two in your gut, nigga what?

We roll deep, smoke on weed drink and pack heat

Requirements for survival each day in L.A.

It don’t stop, we still mash in hot pursuit from the cops

Analyze why we act this way in L.A.

Gimme that mic fool, it’s a West coast jack move

They call me Hitt 'cause I spit like gats do

Cock me back

Bust caps for my Macz Crew, at Fairfax

Who used to wear Air Max shoes, that’s true

But I grew up where niggas jack you, harass you

Blast you, for that set you claim (where you from?)

Mash on you for your Turkish chain, C.K.

B. K

Blue’d up or flame, I ran wit a gang

I helped niggas get jacked for they Dana Dane’s

My pants hang below my waistline

I look humble wanna rumble?

(yeah yeah)

I bang though, like Vince Carter from the baseline

Don’t waste my time

Fuck a scrap in killa Cali, AK’s and 9's

One-time's, sun-shines, and fine-ass bitches

Hawaiian Thai, drive-bys, six-fo's on switches

I was raised in the hood called WHAT-THE-DIF'

Where the brothers in the hood, refused to go Hollywood

Slugs for the fuck of it

Anybody hatin' on us can suck a dick

If I catch you touching mine you catch a flat-line, dead on the floor

Better than yours, driving away gettin' head from a whore

It’s AvireX-to-the-Z

Fuckin' with me might get you banned from TV

Cassette and CD it’s all mine the whole nine the right time

Multiply, we don’t die, the streets don’t lie

What, so neither do I, I’m bad for your health

Like puttin' a pistol up to your face and blastin' yourself

Five in the mornin', burglars at my do'

Glock forty-five in my dresser drawer

Let 'em come in BOW, he see the thunder roll

Roll with niggas, who buy fifths by the fo'

And brews by the case

Slap you in the face with the bass, Dr. Dre laced

Likwit Kings with Sedans and gold rings

Haters scope the style, but can’t find no openings

We roll deep, smoke on weed drink and pack heat

Requirements for survival each day -- in L.A.

It don’t stop, we still mash in hot pursuit from the cops

Analyze why we act this way -- in L.A.

In L. A

That’s how we ride

That’s how we ride

That’s how we ride

That’s how we ride