West Coast Love

[Verse 1: MC Eiht] I’m here to regulate, like I was a million Young guns son the rap game, silly soul Roll up the Philly slow, snatch the nine millie And hit the Wild West, shootin’ up like Billie This ain’t a kids’ game, but it’s like jump rope Up in the ear like I’m blowing on weed smoke Hand over the mouth And poke ‘em in the side with the gat I’m from Compton, nigga, so let’s rock I’m like the man [?], setting up the scheme But I ain’t in to your money, I’ll be into your dreams Back up in the ride, thirteens on the four Keep the gat on the floor just in case I gotta show Couple a niggas frown, I laugh my ass off Tight-ass jeans, niggas you so soft You get tossed right out your shoes Compton’s back here, we give ‘em the bad news [Hook: King Tee] You know they can’t hang with them lyrical slugs When Marco Polo got the beat on subs Original gang bang niggas from the hub MC Eiht and King Tee showing West Coast love [Verse 2: MC Eiht] It’s no disguise, with the blue bandanna Thug that spit it in the neighborhood grammar Music to drive by, locus, no digging The West on your coattails, you stay hidden Unforgiven, Eiht got the murder rap Tales in the Hood and rats, a few [?] cats I won’t trade it for the fame and fortune Compton keep it hot, block always scorchin’ Hood niggas on the porch still like everyday thang Tre on Ds believe in Deuce Wayne This is a game, no doubt, see the tag Couple niggas crossed-out, so no need to brag Shit you fucking with the best Eiht high, thin nigga, I am the West So niggas give it a rest We take it back to the hood, we’re ready to protest [Hook] [Verse 3: King Tee] All bullshit aside, there ain’t no competition You fucking with that Hub City, East Coast edition And Marc you had it cooking when we stepped in the kitchen That King Tee seasoning, spice up the vision You see it when your eyeballs glisten The mission, keep ‘em on the dance floor fizzin’ (get up) Make these little niggas stop wishing On the fall of an O.G. and hopes of division The West arise like a crimson Tide from the ocean all in slow motion Fuck the criticism and them half-assed notions I pledge with the L, true liquids of motion And that’s all a nigga saying Fuck what the radio playing, that’s gay and I run through that new West thing and start banging man King Tee tripping, well let’s go dipping man [Hook]