Lil' Rob - West Coast Ridaz lyrics

rate me

Let me take you back in time with this old school rola

Kick a little rhyme for the cholos and cholas

This Big Frost, East Los, the rap vetarano

Still stay boracho, still stay marijuano

You lame chavalas, no, you can't say nada

Yeah, we keeps a loaded cuete that'll feed you full of valas

Cruisin' the calles in a drop Impala

Chevrolet

213, East L.A. (Yeah)

I dip and hit the switch

On my way to the barrio

To pick up ya bitch, I mean a heina

Tonight, ese, don't try to find her

She's with the label now, homeboy, we sign her

You know I'm a cold piece, Frost be the hielo

On her back, legs opens

Starin' at the cielo

Then it's doggystyle with the face in the pielo

Kid Frost, the big boss, forever stay frio

Game right here, holmes, I sell by the kilo

And that's real talk, said no pedo

You don't believe it, you can ask the homie, Dedos

Yeah

That's right

It's the Queen of the West, and I'm brown and proud

About fifteen years, I been puttin' it down

Just like my homie Lil Rob

He's been doin' his thang (Uh huh)

Y'all don't know that my boy is a Chicano rap king (Yeah)

So get it up (Come on)

And all mi gente

In they lowride Chevys, hit a switch, raise it up

Now drop it down (Uh huh)

And hit the boulevard

On A Sunday Afternoon, cruisin' around

Hey, there's a war goin' on in the streets

So my people gotta squash all the beat (Yeah)

Yo

Cause some people from this side, and people from that side

That's side wide, and more fools gon' die

And it's a neverending drama (Uh huh)

And on the sideline

There's tweaked-out baby mamas (Whoo)

To raise the next generation (Uh huh)

It's no wonder why we trippin' on this southern migration

From San Diego to East Los, from the west to the east coast (That's East, L.A.)

I rock the mic and make it tight for my people (Yeah)

Bumpin' this in the chalis of the regals (That's right)

Chevy Impalas, a bomba with your tio (Uh huh)

Stop at the tienda and pick up some pisto

If I stay listo, I ain't gots to get listo (Ain't gots to get ready)

Jump in the rag, top, I'm brown baggin' it (Brown raggin' it)

Jump in the rag, top, I'm brown baggin' it (I'm brown raggin' it)

Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane

No, it's Lil Rob, flyin' high, stimulatin' my brain (Stimulatin' my brain)

Puffin' on a marijuana cigarette

It's good shit, you need a hit if you ain't shit yet

And you'd be high, just as high as I (Yeah)

Ese, we don't die, we just multiply (Uh huh)

Heh

I put it down for the homies

And the heinas, in the barrio, listenin' to oldies

That's right

It's ya homeboy, Ese Lil Rob

With the homeboy, Frost

My homegirl, Diamonique

Puttin' that shit down

Chicano style

You know

Yeah

San Diego to East Los (That's right)

From the west to the east coast

Yeah

Put it down for the brown, ese