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west coast mentality - ras kass lyrics

[ras k-ss]
strike three, hehe
it’s-just-thug-men-tal-i-ty, n-gg-.
ha, yeahhh, ha, yeah-yeahhh, uh-uhh, uhh.

ras k-ss register richter with nine point eight tectonic plate quakes
firm rubber no breaks, california plates golden state
catch me sittin on the roof, b-mpin snoop
“gin and juice” reminiscin bout the rides and gang truce
seventy degrees in the winter – tropical weather
and vendettas cause l.a. n-gg-z be all about they cheddar
hoochie b-tches and b.g.’s too big for they britches
curb servin, they double up to get richer
f-ck around them lil’ n-gg-z comin to get’cha and get wit’cha
dump until six hit’cha, don’t let the sunshine and palm trees
fool you get the picture, n-gg-z be in hollywood thinkin it’s all good
but everything south of wilshire, is all hood
n-gg-z committin murder
later that night at tommy’s eatin a chili-cheese burger
menace ii society, seen that
kobe and shaq – lakers bout to bring the championship ring back
from ladera heights to venice beach
dime pieces with bmw leases and cartier timepieces
i was born to raise west coast til my casket drop
throw up a dub, spittin at the camera like ‘pac, ptooey

chorus: ras k-ss (repeat 2x)

would y’all get down for me, i’ma represent my town
so y’all represent y’all town for me
if a g’s gettin made, put it down with me
homey that’s a west coast mentality

[ras k-ss]
three-hundred and ten angels, flossin nine-hundred and nine fdangles(?)
two-hundred and thirteen sets to g-ngb-ng too
three-hundred and twenty-three hungry homies want steak
never been greedy, if i ate/eight, one-eight (donate)
so if i gotta choose a coast, i got to choose the west
born and raised out there, so don’t – go there
oh yeah, i’m the illest n-gg-, clownin y’all fools
with everything y’all say like luther luffeigh
i swoop through l.a. hoe, bendin y’all b-tches like clay dough
f-ck what you say doe, these streets are fatal pendejo
so everywhere i go i take west coast with me
home of the driveby, thug life and d-ckies
what you know about silk shirts (huh?)
cross corded snakeskin belts, flippin off the front porch
lesson number one – n-gg-z don’t give a f-ck
and lesson number two remember lesson number one

chorus

[ras k-ss]
see in l.a., n-gg-z don’t walk, n-gg-z drive whips with beats
weak n-gg-z trick, most n-gg-z say b-tches ain’t sh-t
but hoes gotta eat too, they all be at club lingerie
with a gay down to meet you
but f-ck a three-piece suit
y’all n-gg-z dressin like y’all goin to church
either me and my homies get in lookin like this or we skert
(errrrrrrrrr) and if they bullsh-ttin, we just parkin-lot pimpin’
sunday night, jamaican gold, hip-hop and cheeba
tuesday lesbian divas be up in peanuts (what)
i be f-ckin baby girl and her stud
plus she said my d-ck was big, my sh-t be up in the gut
waittress b-tch tryin to front like we broke, “whattup loc?”
give me a henn’ and o.j. without slashin nicole’s throat
c-arson n-gg-, i’m just the illest emcee
all california love, rest in peace bigga b.

chorus 2x

- ras kass lyrics

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