Featured In
Top Songs By Dr. Dre
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Dr. Dre
Vocals
Hittman
Vocals
Knoc-Turn'al
Vocals
Defari
Vocals
MC Ren
Vocals
Xzibit
Vocals
Camara Kambon
Keyboards
Elizondo
Bass
Ice T
Sampled Artist
Kokane
Vocals
Sean Cruse
Guitar
The Pharcyde
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Andre Romell Young
Songwriter
Roger McBride
Songwriter
Duane Johnson
Songwriter
Alvin Joiner
Songwriter
Royal Rosheam Harbor
Songwriter
Brian Bailey
Songwriter
Marquese D. Holder
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Dr. Dre
Producer
Mel-Man
Producer
Richard "Segal" Huredia
Mixing Engineer
Brian Gardner
Mastering Engineer
Dave Tenhouten
Assistant Engineer
Jason Lemiere
Assistant Engineer
Michelle Lynn Forbes
Assistant Engineer
Steve Macauley
Assistant Engineer
Lyrics
Yeah nigga, MC Ren up in this motherfucker
(West West y'all)
Yeah, L.A. niggas
L.A. niggas rule the world nigga
Y'all niggas gotta recognize, you know what i'm sayin'?
Niggas don't wanna peep game, you know what i'm sayin'?
But this shit come all the way back around here
My nigga Dre, droppin' heat box on y'all bitch-ass
You know what i'm sayin'? You gotta recognize
L.A. niggas, connected all over the motherfucking world, nigga
Recognize this, peep game
Now in my younger days I used to sport a rag
Backpack full of cans plus a four-four mag
G'd up from the feet up
Blue'd up from the shoe up's how I grew up
Loc'n, smokin' and drinkin' 'till we threw up ('till we threw up)
At Leimert Park, taggin', hittin' fools up
Ditching my class, just to fuck yo' school up
You don't wanna blast, nigga tuck yo' tool up
But don't sleep, y'all niggas quick to shoot you
Now there's another motherfucker with no future
But time bomb much smoother when I maneuver, dope like Cuba
Got em jumpin Disciples to the Hoover
I'm coming "Straight Outta Compton" with a loose cannon
Smoke big green, call it Bruce Banner
Watch your manners, at last another blast from the top notch
From way back with the pop rocks, I pop lock witcha
Picture this, Dr. Dre twisting wit Tha Liks
And Hittman bought a fix
Don't trip, it's a time bomb in this bitch
Here it tick tick tick tick
Wait a minute it's on, I tell it like a true mackadelic
Weed and cocaine sold separate, check it
From sundown to sunup, clown and run up
The Aftermath'll be two in your gut, nigga what?
We roll deep, smoke on weed drink and pack heat
Requirements for survival each day in L.A
It don't stop, we still mash in hot pursuit from the cops
Analyze why we act this way in L.A
Gimme that mic fool, it's a West coast jack move
They call me Hitt cause I spit like gats do
Cock me back
Bust caps for my max crew, at Fairfax
Who used to wear Air Max shoes, that's true
But I grew up where niggas jack you, harass you
Blast you, for that set you claim (where you from?)
Mash on you for your Turkish chain, C.K. B.K
Blue'd up or flame, I ran wit a gang
I helped niggas get, jacked for they Dana Dane's
My pants hang below my waistline
I look humble wanna rumble? (yeah, yeah)
I bang though, like Vince Carter from the baseline
Don't waste my time
Fuck a scrap in killa Cali, AK's and 9's
One-time's, sun-shines, and fine-ass bitches
Hawaiian Thai, drive-bys, six-fo's on switches
I was raised in the hood called "WHAT-THE-DIF"
Where the brothers in the hood, refused to go Hollywood
Slugs for the fuck of it
Anybody hatin' on us can suck a dick
If I catch you touching mine you catch a flat-line, dead on the floor
Better than yours, driving away gettin' head from a whore
It's AvireX-to-the-Z
Fuckin' with me might get you banned from TV
Cassette and CD it's all mine the whole nine the right time
Multiply, we don't die, the streets don't lie
What, so neither do I, I'm bad for your health
Like puttin' a pistol up to your face and blastin' yourself
Five in the mornin', burglars at my door
Glock forty-five in my dresser drawer
Let 'em come in BLAOW he see the thunder roll
Roll with niggas, who buy fifths by the fo'
And brew's by the case
Slap you in the face with the bass, Dr. Dre laced
Likwit Kings wit Sedans and gold rings
Haters fold the style, but can't find no openings
We roll deep, smoke on weed drink and pack heat
Requirements for survival each day in L.A
It don't stop, we still mash in hot pursuit from the cops
Analyze why we act this way in L.A
In L.A
That's how we ride
Writer(s): Andre Romell Young, Alvin N Joiner, Roger Mcbride, Brian Bailey, D. Johnson, Royal R Harbor, Marquese D. Holder
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com