3 Strikes movie

3 Strikes movie - West Coast Mentality lyrics

rate me

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[Ras Kass]<br>

Strike three, hehe<br>

It's-just-thug-men-tal-i-ty, nigga..<br>

Ha, YEAHHH, ha, yeah-YEAHHH, uh-uhh, uhh..<br>

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Ras Kass register Richter with nine point eight tectonic plate quakes<br>

Firm rubber no breaks, California plates Golden State<br>

Catch me sittin on the roof, bumpin Snoop<br>

"Gin and Juice" reminiscin bout the rides and gang truce<br>

Seventy degrees in the winter - tropical weather<br>

and vendettas cause L.A. niggaz be all about they cheddar<br>

Hoochie bitches and B.G.'s too big for they britches<br>

Curb servin, they double up to get richer<br>

Fuck around them lil' niggaz comin to get'cha and get wit'cha<br>

Dump until six hit'cha, don't let the sunshine and palm trees<br>

fool you get the picture, niggaz be in Hollywood thinkin it's all good<br>

But everything South of Wilshire, is all hood<br>

Niggaz committin murder<br>

Later that night at Tommy's eatin a chili-cheese burger<br>

Menace II Society, seen that<br>

Kobe and Shaq - Lakers bout to bring the championship ring back<br>

From Ladera Heights to Venice Beach<br>

Dime pieces with BMW leases and Cartier timepieces<br>

I was born to raise West coast til my casket drop<br>

Throw up a dub, spittin at the camera like 'Pac, ptooey<br>

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[Chorus: Ras Kass (repeat 2X)]<br>

<br>

Would y'all get down for me, I'ma represent my town<br>

so y'all represent y'all town for me<br>

If a G's gettin made, put it down with me<br>

Homey that's a West Coast Mentality<br>

<br>

[Ras Kass]<br>

Three-hundred and ten angels, flossin nine-hundred and nine fdangles(?)<br>

Two-hundred and thirteen sets to gangbang too<br>

Three-hundred and twenty-three hungry homies want steak<br>

Never been greedy, if I ate/eight, one-eight (donate)<br>

So if I gotta choose a coast, I got to choose the West<br>

Born and raised out there, so don't - go there<br>

Oh yeah, I'm the illest nigga, clownin y'all fools<br>

with everything y'all say like Luther Luffeigh<br>

I swoop through L.A. hoe, bendin y'all bitches like clay dough<br>

Fuck what you say doe, these streets are fatal pendejo<br>

So everywhere I go I take West coast with me<br>

Home of the driveby, Thug Life and dickies<br>

What you know about silk shirts (huh?)<br>

Cross corded snakeskin belts, flippin off the front porch<br>

Lesson number one - niggaz don't give a fuck<br>

and lesson number two remember lesson number one<br>

<br>

[Chorus]<br>

<br>

[Ras Kass]<br>

See in L.A., niggaz don't walk, niggaz drive whips with beats<br>

Weak niggaz trick, most niggaz say bitches ain't shit<br>

but hoes gotta eat too, they all be at Club Lingerie<br>

with a gay down to meet you<br>

But fuck a three-piece suit<br>

Y'all niggaz dressin like y'all goin to church<br>

Either me and my homies get in lookin like this or we skert<br>

(errrrrrrrrr) and if they bullshittin, we just parkin-lot pimpin'<br>

Sunday night, Jamaican gold, hip-hop and cheeba<br>

Tuesday lesbian divas be up in Peanuts (what)<br>

I be fuckin baby girl and her stud<br>

Plus she said my dick was big, my shit be up in the gut<br>

Waittress bitch tryin to front like we broke, "Whattup loc?"<br>

Give me a Henn' and O.J. without slashin Nicole's throat<br>

C-arson nigga, I'm just the illest emcee<br>

All California Love, rest in peace Bigga B.<br>

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[Chorus 2X]<br>

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