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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
The Game
Vocals
Jonathan Rotem
All Instruments
SHORTY
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
J. Taylor
Songwriter
Jonathan Rotem
Songwriter
Samuel Christian
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Bernie Grundman
Mastering Engineer
Chris Doremus Clarke
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Geoff Gibbs
Recording Engineer
Greg Ogan
Recording Engineer
Jonathan Rotem
Producer
Samuel Kalandjian
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Steve Daniel Baughman
Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Put your lighters up if you want to
[Verse 2]
Pull your motherfuckin' Dodger cap
Over your motherfuckin' eyes
Till you can't see shit
I want you to go blind, ****
So you can feel how I felt
When I was in that motherfuckin' coma
[Verse 3]
Raised in the City of Angels
Where safe and danger switch lanes
So, stranger, drive slow
Where bangers and gangstas
Fast women, and dank are just
Part of the face that we show
We got mountains and ocean
We move in slow motion
Off that sticky you all love to blow
I swear
Ain't nothing better than
That's why we all take our hats off to you
The one blood
[Verse 4]
Come to my hood, hood
Look at my block, block
That's that project building
Yeah, that's where I got shot, shot
'Cause I was more hood than Suge
Had more rocks than J, more scars on my face
Than the original Scarface
Or the homeboy Scarface
Al Pacino couldn't be no gangsta
De Niro in Casino? He no gangsta
Wannabe, wanna see? Wanna get a shovel
Dig Tookie up, ****
'Cause he know gangstas
[Verse 5]
**** think, 'cause they watch Menace a couple times
Seen Cuban boys in the hood, and press rewind
That you can survive
When a real Crip run up on your corner and flex the 9
You must be out of your mind
A real Blood'll put you out of your mind
So stay the fuck up out of my hood
Or my **** take you up out of your shine
It ain't a movie, dawg
Hell yeah, it's a real fuckin' Uzi, dawg
I'm 'bout to hop inside my Impala
Try to keep up
Don't lose me, y'all
[Verse 6]
Raised in the City of Angels
Where safe and danger switch lanes
So, stranger, drive slow
Where bangers and gangstas
Fast women, and dank are just
Part of the face that we show
We got mountains and ocean
We move in slow motion
Off that sticky you all love to blow
I swear
Ain't nothing better than
That's why we all take our hats off to you
The one blood
[Verse 7]
I know the real O-Dog
And that **** know the real Game
I call him the rinse tape
And he ain't never been in no gang
But he been to my house, house
And he sat on my couch, couch
While I put one in the air
So yeah, that **** know what I'm 'bout, 'bout
I'm 'bout my hood
I'm 'bout my block
I'm 'bout my chips
So if the rap money stop, and I punch a clock
Catch you slipping at a light, get out yo' shit
[Verse 8]
We jack ****
Out of town-ers
And rap ****
And ball players
'Cause we ball, player
We chop it up with them trap ****
We outcast, we big boys
Ludacris with them big toys
Where I'm from, there's only two things standing on the corner
Me and that liquor store
Look what the Bloods did to Weezy
Look what the Crips did to Jeezy
This gangbanger shit ain't nothing to play with
Me and Snoop Dogg just made it look easy
[Verse 9]
Raised in the city of angels
Where safe and danger switch lanes
So, stranger, drive slow
Where beggars and gangstas
Fast women, and dank are just
Part of the face that we show
We got mountains and ocean
We move in slow motion
Off that sticky you all love to blow
I swear
Ain't nothing better than
That's why we all take our hats off to you
The one blood
[Verse 10]
Y'all **** got this LA shit real fucked up, man
**** better start respecting what the fuck we about, man
We take **** the fuck out
This shit ain't no movie, dawg
This shit is real
Crips, Bloods, ese
We hold shit down
This is LA
Wrote the shit on my face
Put a motherfuckin' star behind it
What the fuck I am
Star face
LA Chronicles
LAX Files
Case closed
Written by: J. Taylor, J.R. Rotem, S. Christian