Listen to Some L.A. N****z (feat. Hittman, Ms. Roq, Knoc-Turn'al, Time Bomb, Koka Kambon, Defari, MC Ren & Xzibit) by Dr. Dre

Some L.A. N****z (feat. Hittman, Ms. Roq, Knoc-Turn'al, Time Bomb, Koka Kambon, Defari, MC Ren & Xzibit)

Dr. Dre

Hip-Hop/Rap

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Dr. Dre
Dr. Dre
Vocals
Hittman
Hittman
Vocals
Knoc-Turn'al
Knoc-Turn'al
Vocals
Defari
Defari
Vocals
MC Ren
MC Ren
Vocals
Xzibit
Xzibit
Vocals
Camara Kambon
Camara Kambon
Keyboards
Elizondo
Elizondo
Bass
Ice T
Ice T
Sampled Artist
Kokane
Kokane
Vocals
Sean Cruse
Sean Cruse
Guitar
The Pharcyde
The Pharcyde
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Andre Romell Young
Andre Romell Young
Songwriter
Roger McBride
Roger McBride
Songwriter
Duane Johnson
Duane Johnson
Songwriter
Alvin Joiner
Alvin Joiner
Songwriter
Royal Rosheam Harbor
Royal Rosheam Harbor
Songwriter
Brian Bailey
Brian Bailey
Songwriter
Marquese D. Holder
Marquese D. Holder
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Dr. Dre
Dr. Dre
Producer
Mel-Man
Mel-Man
Producer
Richard "Segal" Huredia
Richard "Segal" Huredia
Mixing Engineer
Brian Gardner
Brian Gardner
Mastering Engineer
Dave Tenhouten
Dave Tenhouten
Assistant Engineer
Jason Lemiere
Jason Lemiere
Assistant Engineer
Michelle Lynn Forbes
Michelle Lynn Forbes
Assistant Engineer
Steve Macauley
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
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