3 Strikes movie - West Coast Mentality lyrics
rate me<br>
[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>
<br>
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>
<br>
[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>
<br>
[Chorus 2X]<br>
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