Текст песни
1 Stacee Adamz:
I hit the switch.
lift the ass, see the chrome undercarriage.
G-ed Up, Neck flooded with stones.
100 carats.
No Fitted, clean cut fresh, and fly a s kite.
Iron cocked for the jackers, I aint dying tonight.
Straight legit.
Fuck Supplying the white.
Fuck catching a case.
Im like cube I push rhymes like weight.
Send em a message.
Stacee eat niggaz for breakfast.
Fenna silence all the critics and skeptics.
Its the gang bang capital.
Kill Cali, the cappo, Im strapped so its how I was raised it comes natural.
They aint never seen a G like Stacee.
Hair pin trigger.
Still got the heat off safety.
Got a fan base.
Real Gs relate to me.
Got it covered every angle nigga A-Z.
What they doing?
Hating on me, but naw, they never cross.
Cali's finest and Stacee the Boss
West Coast Finest, Come and roll with me.
You know how it be In these Cali Streets.
We do what we want.
2 El-Prez:
Where all my real Mic killers.
Skinny as reggie Miller.
Iller than catching sars and salmonella.
Sicker than tounge kissing an aides patient for skrilla.
Who you thinks the biggers monster.
Me or God Zilla.
Nigga.
You can find me ina town house villa with a bad senorita smoking kush in cohibas.
From a broke chicken head to a plushed out diva.
I see you.
Just keep your nails done and your weave up.
Until you weak niiggas ease up.
Ima scribble my name into your frame like a tree trunk.
Out the trunk ever month.
Im an animal.
International.
Back handed, yea he a pro.
I stay ballling like the lake show L.
O.
and two Four.
watch em at the staples while you glued to the tivo.
Chevy maricons and regals.
Rolling low.
Bumping we holding these streets.
West Coast Finest, Come and roll with me.
You know how it be In these Cali Streets.
We do what we want.
3 Patrick Antonian:
Hot box the V8 then I roll out.
When I get the paper Ima have the top chopped down.
Enjoy the California sun while im riding.
The smell of gun smoke You can hear the sounds of the sirens.
Its all good feeling neighborhood peace.
meet me at the park so we can roll them trees up.
Cops hit the block wont freeze up.
Hoes down all my pimps say Gz up.
Always got a lot of spots we can hang at.
Catch me in my earth tones, jeans and my tan hat.
The west coast where the hits stay timeless.
cops in the rear view we still dippin stylish.
man the sun feels good on my bones.
I might as well buy a stone at the funeral.
A certain love that I got for my zone and the cannibus.
Listen real close you can still hear the hammers click.
West Coast Finest, Come and roll with me.
You know how it be In these Cali Streets.
We do what we want.
4 One-2:
Crime pays.
900 and 99 ways.
through my whole week.
I grind all nine days.
at the junk yard round the clock.
Beamers and Benzes get stripped down and chopped.
Shipments out of state.
My homies got heart.
Only talk business talk dominoes in the park.
With a purple sky line.
Feel the calm breeze.
Producing goose bumps and moving palm trees.
Its a sunny day in the city of LA.
Rush hour makes me wanna get away.
Try not to get round up from 110 to the 10.
get off La Brea, hit the shop for a line up.
And a slight fade.
Throw Hakeem and extra tip before I get in the whip and dip.
Blow trees as I return to my block.
Its back to working and hustling non stop baby.
West Coast Finest, Come and roll with me.
You know how it be In these Cali Streets.
We do what we want.