Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Murs
Murs
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
N. Carter
N. Carter
Songwriter
Patrick Douthit
Patrick Douthit
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
N. Carter
N. Carter
Producer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
I'm from L.A., Californ-I-A hot
Days got shade, let me take you round the way
Lot of outta towners can't handle this city
Where you wear the wrong color and it can get tricky
But that was '86 and things done changed
We a lot more evolved with the way that we bang
Not the rips and the dogs, man the smog might kill ya
But you ain't gotta worry if you stayin' North of Wilshire
Don't be scared of Crenshaw, the Slauson super-mall
Or Earle's Hot Dogs, man, you gotta do it, y'all, come on
[Verse 2]
Come to the hood where we do the most good
Magic Johnson be ownin' everything like he should
Lynnwood, Long Beach, Hawthorne, Gardena
From the towers in Watts, to the hills of Altadena
The home of the traffic and that gangbang culture
And I hope the way we do the damn thang don't insult ya
[Verse 3]
I'm from L.A., Southern California
Fool, the West Coast where everybody is somebody
And the game is fame, do everything with a bang
And everybody wanna know what set you claim
[Verse 4]
I'm from L.A., Southern California
Fool, the West Coast where everybody is somebody
And the game is fame, do everything with a bang
And everybody wanna know what set you claim
[Verse 5]
The land where the 6-4's, hop up and get low
Your favorite rapper gettin' jacked for more than his sick flows
Home of the pornos, we mess up award shows
The weather's always warm, so the women wear short clothes
Our beaches ain't the cleanest, but our, ah, is the greenest
And we got the blonde bombshells and sick Latinas
Then mix in the dark-skinned, light-skinned sisters
Where you never have to wear your triple goose on Christmas
You can miss us with the blizzards and the winters
The hurricanes, unless it's in some glasses with some actresses
Perfect frame, silicone, or real, it don't matter if she paid for it
Every single trend, you can probably thank L.A. for it
Bandanas, facelifts, quick trips to Vegas
White T-shirt, Chuck Taylors, or them K-Swiss
Pop lockin', Crip-walkin', chronic blunts, G-Funk
A place that everybody hate, but you gotta see once
[Verse 6]
L.A., Southern California
Fool, the West Coast where everybody is somebody
And the game is fame, do everything with a bang
And everybody wanna know what set you claim
[Verse 7]
I'm from L.A., Southern California
Fool, the West Coast where everybody is somebody
And the game is fame, do everything with a bang
And everybody wanna know what set you claim
Written by: N. Carter, Patrick Douthit
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