Letras
Blaze up (oh, yeah)
Worldwide (don't stop, don't stop)
Westside (don't stop)
Yeah, Mack 10 with Tha Dogg Pound
Yeah, and the hits don't stop (sucka)
Nothin' but the cavi
Check it, hey, Daz (what's happenin'?)
Hey, Kurupt, check this out, dawg
Now when I come to y'all hood, y'all watch my back (yeah)
And when ya come to Inglewood, I'ma front you a sack (front me a sack)
So we can grind and get away with the cash like a caper
'Cause it ain't about the set-trip, it's all about the paper (that's right)
Made the poverty cease, on the rise like yeast (uh-huh)
A pavé 'Lex piece, and I keep my khakis creased (straight up)
Mack 10 is the lick, and ya know what my set be (Westside)
Connect gang, nigga, from the West, where the best be
It ain't no questions asked, you down to blast for me? (Yeah)
Down to ride for me? (Yeah)
Down to die for me? (Die)
I come through for these sucker-ass niggas for rep
Come creepin' up on 'em slowly but surely show 'em death
Pull out the MAK 90 automatic for static
Blast a couple of niggas, leave 'em all panicked (Dogg Pound, man)
We swerve and hit the curb, smoke some herb
We came up too much, too tough, and too rough
We in the war zone where the war's on, where ya gun, nigga? (Watch out)
Show 'em where you're from, nigga, ridin'-ass young nigga (that's right)
Arsenal equipped, hot enough to scorch (scorch)
With the double fours on the hip, rollin' with the force
He's out to catch a body
Talkin' 'bout, "I thought this was a gangsta party"
(Nah, this ain't no gangster party motherfucker)
Now he's walkin' around salty as the sea
Talkin' 'bout, "What's jumpin'?" (Yo, what's up, nigga?)
I'm 'bout to get the pump to pumpin' and start dumpin' on somethin'
Fuck you over there, party over here (what?)
And if you wanna trip, we got the straps near
'Cause niggas like us do platinum every year (what?)
And if I ruled this sphere, your shit'd disappear
Now everybody in the house, throw your dubs in the air (what?)
And wave 'em all around like ya just don't care
It's worldwide and dope, so, nigga, act like ya savvy (what?)
Mack 10 and Tha Pound cookin' nothin' but the cavi
I'm servin' niggas like a host with the pound, so take a toast
Dawg, this West Coast and our shit bump the most (Westside)
'Cause vine to vine I swing through the woods of Ingle'
And everything I make, fuck around, and be a single (platinum)
From the hoo-bangin' hits, to the yes, yes, y'alls
Now all down my halls, got plaques on my walls
We might slow the roll, sit back, and still kick it
But the shit don't stop 'til we hit a meal ticket
I'll be goddamned, I'm in it for a meal ticket
And the goal's successful, I don't know who to prove a show
Usual swerve a corner, hit a block back-to-back
I don't know, it's like that, where the gangbangers hang at (where they hang, nigga?)
They say, "Daz, are you a rider?" (Are you a rider?)
I reply with, "Boy, hell yeah, I'm a rider" (that's right)
From the Eastside of Long Beach to the Westside of Inglewood (Inglewood)
On a cash mission bailin' hood to hood (hook us up, man)
Once upon a time in the early stages of my life
Sacrifice, out for the loot shaking niggas like dice
Forever and a day, say what you say
On the mic, I display, Philly to LA
I've been all over from Crenshaw and Imperial
To 108th, I'm sure Mack got my back (that's right)
It's all about mashin', cash, and heat in the stash
When you're with a neighborhood of assassins, what you say?
Fuck you over there, party over here
And if you wanna trip, we got the straps near
'Cause niggas like us do platinum every year
And if I ruled this sphere, your shit'd disappear
Now everybody in the house, throw your dubs in the air
And wave 'em all around like ya just don't care
It's worldwide and dope, so, nigga, act like ya savvy
Mack 10 and Tha Pound cookin' nothin' but the cavi (Dogg Pound)
Uh, what do you consider fun?
(That's the bomb, that's the bomb)
Uh, all day night, and all night long
(That's the bomb, that's the bomb)
When you wake up in the morning and you start to yawn
(That's the bomb, that's the bomb)
All day night, and all day long, come on
(That's the bomb, that's the bomb) come on, yeah
Dub S.C.G
D.P.G.C
Take a picture, trick (yeah, yeah)
Take a picture, trick (yeah, yeah)
Take a picture, trick (yeah)
It might make ya rich
Westside (don't stop, Don't stop)
(Don't quit, don't quit)
Biatch
Death Row