West Coast Ridaz

(Main Verse) [Frost] Let me take you back in time with this old school rola Kick a little rhyme for the cholos and cholas This Big Frost, East Los, the rap vetarano Still stay boracho, still stay marijuano {*inhale*} {*exhale*} You lame chavalas, no, you can't say nada Yeah, we keeps a loaded cuete that'll feed you full of valas Cruisin' the calles in a drop Impala Chevrolet 213, East L.A. (Yeah) I dip and hit the switch On my way to the barrio To pick up ya bitch, I mean a heina Tonight, ese, don't try to find her She's with the label now, homeboy, we sign her You know I'm a cold piece, Frost be the hielo On her back, legs opens Starin' at the cielo Then it's doggystyle with the face in the pielo Kid Frost, the big boss, forever stay frio Game right here, holmes, I sell by the kilo And that's real talk, said no pedo You don't believe it, you can ask the homie, Dedos [Fingazz] Yeah That's right [Diamonique] It's the Queen of the West, and I'm brown and proud About fifteen years, I been puttin' it down Just like my homie Lil Rob He's been doin' his thang (Uh huh) Y'all don't know that my boy is a Chicano rap king (Yeah) So get it up (Come on) And all mi gente In they lowride Chevys, hit a switch, raise it up Now drop it down (Uh huh) And hit the boulevard On A Sunday Afternoon, cruisin' around Hey, there's a war goin' on in the streets So my people gotta squash all the beat (Yeah) Yo Cause some people from this side, and people from that side That's side wide, and more fools gon' die And it's a neverending drama (Uh huh) And on the sideline There's tweaked-out baby mamas (Whoo) To raise the next generation (Uh huh) It's no wonder why we trippin' on this southern migration [Lil Rob] From San Diego to East Los, from the west to the east coast (That's East, L.A.) I rock the mic and make it tight for my people (Yeah) Bumpin' this in the chalis of the regals (That's right) Chevy Impalas, a bomba with your tio (Uh huh) Stop at the tienda and pick up some pisto If I stay listo, I ain't gots to get listo (Ain't gots to get ready) Jump in the rag, top, I'm brown baggin' it (Brown raggin' it) Jump in the rag, top, I'm brown baggin' it (I'm brown raggin' it) Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane No, it's Lil Rob, flyin' high, stimulatin' my brain (Stimulatin' my brain) Puffin' on a marijuana cigarette It's good shit, you need a hit if you ain't shit yet And you'd be high, just as high as I (Yeah) Ese, we don't die, we just multiply (Uh huh) Heh I put it down for the homies And the heinas, in the barrio, listenin' to oldies [Lil Rob] That's right It's ya homeboy, Ese Lil Rob With the homeboy, Frost My homegirl, Diamonique Puttin' that shit down Chicano style You know Yeah San Diego to East Los (That's right) From the west to the east coast Yeah Put it down for the brown, ese