Welcome to La

This the home of the Dodgers

This the home of the Lakers

Shout out to the Bay

But this the real home of the Raiders

Welcome to LA

Where the palm trees sway

But don't you get it twisted

When you come this way

Whoa, whoa

Whoa, oh, oh, oh

Whoa, oh, oh, oh

I rep it hard and I throw it up

And they know about it, the kings

The city, they standing behind me

Like when Kobe Bryant first got that ring

I'm in that 3-1-0 Wilmington

'Bout to get my body tatted

Slowly blinking, smoking blunts

Inked up by home girl Galie

Compton, what's poppin'?

My motherfuckers in Watts

Don't know about your city

But my Gs got it on lock

Cops tryna raid the spot

Looking for the scale and rock

Asking, who the fuck got

Baking soda in that pot, Huh?

South gate, my second home

Wicho, can't believe you gone

I'm at that Kokopelli shop

Taking hits from the bong

Inglewood, Lynwood

Maywood and Bell Gardens

All my boys indicted

Pray to God you beat them charges

Yeah, regardless LA is heartless

We love to start shit

A blunt, we spark it

Smoking bomb, no, never that garbage

And when I'm gone put my soul to rest

On this holy land coast

Where the sun sets

This the home of the Dodgers

This the home of the Lakers

Shout out to the Bay

But this the real home of the Raiders

Welcome to LA

Where the palm trees sway

But don't you get it twisted

When you come this way

Whoa, whoa

Whoa, oh, oh, oh

Whoa, oh, oh, oh

On my way to Long Beach

To smoke some of that bomb weed

Chill with some of my homies

Don't you exit on that wrong street

'Cause they shoot to kill

Yeah, they shoot to kill

In the streets, four deep

In that Coupe De Ville

Murder tape on that whole block

Much love to Norwalk

Police we don't talk

We mob up and it don't stop

Highland Park, that northeast

Where them soldiers don't sleep

On the curb with a grape swish

And a forty ounce of that OE

San Fernando Valley, Cali, county of LA

Smoking the dank

Taking a sip from my drink

Crypto 8-1-8

What's good, Hollywood?

Party up till I throw up

With my twenty seven junkie shirt

I'm throwing up in my hood

In my Wood Class Beanie on

Put my CD on

Can't you see I'm blown, bitch?

Can't you see I'm blown, bitch?

In my Lost Angels clothing brand

Let me hold a gram

In LA is where I'm posted at

This the home of the Dodgers

This the home of the Lakers

Shout out to the Bay

But this the real home of the Raiders

Welcome to LA

Where the palm trees sway

But don't you get it twisted

When you come this way

Whoa, whoa

Whoa, oh, oh, oh

Whoa, oh, oh, oh

And don't think I forgot about east LA

Eternal mob

King, king