Winnetka Exit

[Takbir] Yo I ain't got no cash, no money, no funds, no dividends How come all these people got so much money to spend? While I'm cruisin' inside of my broken down Honda Accord Wishin' I had a dollar bill to throw up in the tank But obviously ridin' on 'E's' a deadly thing So I stepped to Willie Big, lookin' for pocket change He pulled out some champagne, so happy to celebrate I was like, "Nah, man, I need chips, let's get it straight" So right before I jetted he slapped me a couple of bucks I knew where I was headed, for gasoline that's unleaded Would the derelict regret it or is that the way they thought though? I don't know, I'm cheap so I slid up into the ARCO Two dollars and fifty-six cents on twenty-three Exit off of Winnetka to enter Canoga P Now everybody be bumpin' and whippin' the steering wheel To something that's undiscovered but quickly to be revealed And we rockin', beats that's knockin', yea Ryu and Tak and, turn on the radio, the Wake Up Show, what Ninety-two, uh, we hype when we . . . true Yo, we are, from a, what, Style of Beyond and We, would, like, to rock, for you and you (VOICE:) Rockin' our radio station here, in the San Fernando Valley (S-O-B), at least thirty fatalities, rockin' our, San Fernando Valley RYU: Sippin' half a cup of decaf, coffee with milk Overlookin' the Valley smog like I'm walkin' on stilts In the basement of the Los Angeles basin waging war The weapons are chasin' full scale invasions, hit the floor When the Saticoy and Roscoe block proximity mines Explode into a rhyme and alphanumeric time code Now let me flip back into fly mode (chill) Dollar dollar bill, more like ninety-nine cents For Schlitz malt liquor forty-ounce over the hill Kickin freestyles, stumblin' words have you wonderin' I'll rock your mic, steal your spotlight, and tan under it Van Nuys, Canoga, Northridge, Reseda renegade Center-stage steppin' with the missile engaged It's simple and plain, take away the gangs and all that mess What's left is hip-hop at it's best But in the West it's the S-O-B Eight-One-Eight, yes that be, from out the derelict barracks Redefining the MC (HOOK x 2) Let the phonograph spin (let it spin, let it spin) Where it stops, nobody knows (nobody knows) The code, but if it flows (let it flow) let it flow If it does, then it won't stop, hah TAKBIR: Ayo, Vin Skully comin' with the sick type juice Headphones, adjust the mic, let loose Wicked patterns of flowin' when I'm zonin' (zonin') Move into a soothin' poetic lunatic frenzy Ricocheting inside a studio with the session Me and Ryu, a combination in the umber pure impression So while they're lookin' screwface, Skully is on the Cubase And all their after-talk gets packed in a little suitcase (*Laughter*) what you expected? One-oh-One Ventura, Eight-Eighteen, Winnetka Exit RYU: Within The Golden State line, where fake guys get bit by the snake eyes Spittin' venomous, sudden death with surprise By malicious Skully tracks crushin' all production wishes Underground aquatics swimming with exotic fishes We raisin' up the flag without a question or discussion So take Winnetka Exit for some fine-tuning adjustment Cause just when you thought that everything was thorough We came back to represent the Los Angeles borough (HOOK x 2)