Westside Slaughterhouse

Westside

Microphone check, 1-0 from the West Coast

Bailer and tailor, I cuss like a sailor

When you see her she's a goner, moved to California

Blew the bitch up and put the gangster twist on her

Sunny Southern Cal, it never snows

**** yelling hey's and ho's, we dumping out of six-fours

When it comes to gunplay, we vets

It's West Coast for life, no crews, only sets

Well, it's the dog, breathin' out the smog

I'm a hog of this gangster shit, don of the clique

All you suckers wanna diss the Pacific

But you buster **** never get specific

Used to love her, mad 'cause we fucked her

Pussy whipped bitch with no common sense

Hip hop started in the West

Ice Cube bailin' through the East without a vest

Now as I look to my riz-ight and to my left

I see motherfuckers staring like they wanna step

So I'm grabbing my rusty screwdriver

In case I gotta cut you deeper than Vanessa Del Rio's vagina

Find another crew of **** who could fuck with this

Lyrical bully giving verbal abuse to crews, fool

You must be on dick, dope and dynamite, how you figure

Speed on before you get peed on, ****, yeah

Fool, what side is you, red or the blue?

Ooh, wild as the L.A. Zoo, it's round two

I ignite, grab the mic tight, strike like a rattle

Bring your rhymes and nines to the motherfuckin' battle

So sundown to sunup, run up with my gun up

Our brakes get to pumpin', you know a **** dumpin'

You're dread like a Rasta when I lock like a terrier

Mack 10 that **** with the heat that'll bury ya

Oh, ah, oh, ah

Do a walk by and watch everybody die

**** into gangs, things and narcotics

Freak bitches, riches and hydraulics

Pull heat, knock you off your feet

Clear the whole block, both sides of the street

Even Crips and Bloods hear my thuds

Fee, fi, fo, fum, ay, ****, where you from? (Westside)

Fuck all you ****, I'm yellin'

This is Maad Circle to the fullest, everybody one-eighty-seven

Toones play the piano, fuck a battle

I'm sockin' rappers like Mad Man Santiago

'Cause you **** ain't impressing me

Plus you signed to Big Red Records, so, ****, fuck what you tellin' me

Sit down, junior, you couldn't see me if you wanted to

Look, y'all, it's Mack 10, Cube and the W

Westside's on the map

**** rappin' since the '70's and still never went gold

Westside's on the map

**** rappin' since the '70's and still never went gold

I just had a scrap for the neighborhood

Inglewood stereotype, gotta deal with the hype

Known to kick back with a fat sack, fuck that

Where my gat at, these **** trippin' off my Bulls hat

About to let loose with the chrome trey deuce

Five shot, and I put holes in your bandana

I push a Benz, you still rolling G's

****, miss me with that set trippin', start slangin' keys

When I say get-chy, get-chy **** get bitchy, bitchy

'Cause they heard of the natural born murderer

I'm like Frankenstein, it's spankin' time

Layin' in the sunshine with only one nine

So who wants to bust with the never rust?

Goin' platinum plus every time I cuss

So fuck the whole world, black

**** better hope I don't grow my Jheri curl back

Step up, murderer, stepping out a Chevrolet

Sportin' a beanie like Marvin Gaye

Stalkin', walkin' in my big black Chucks

Standin' tall in your freestyle session holdin' my balls

I'm peeping game like a ref in '95

'Cause **** be foul and bitin' other **** styles

But if you're bitin' this, you better bring a dentist

'Cause suckin' these balls will give your ass lockjaw, fool

Which way shall I go, ****, what should I do?

Should I bang with the red, or should I truce with the blue?

Should I rock dope beats and grab the mic and stay down?

Or should I shoot out of town and flip this pound, shit

I never thought that my nuts would get bigger

Checkin' major figures, I'm hangin' with platinum ****

It's Mack 10, and I'm Inglewood swingin'

No time for bangin' but still got my khakis hangin'

Fuck one love, it's the bloody glove killin' honky hoes

Leavin' bloodstains on Broncos

In a Hertz rental, I drive on 405

Is he dead or alive?

Motherfuck court, took another snort

Jumpin' over chairs as I run through the airport

So I can catch a flight away from the drama

Number thirty-two chillin' in the Bahamas

Ah Shucky Ducky, quack, quack

**** ain't knowin' how to act, sucker ducks play the back

**** used to diss, but now it's turnin' around

And like Brandy, motherfuckers wanna be down with this

West Coast rap game, I can give a fuck

If you wasn't down at first, you can buck these nuts

Transformers get stole on (Boom)

Get the picture, killer Cali, home of the bodybags, ****

Westside's on the map

**** rappin' since the '70's and still never went gold

Westside's on the map

**** rappin' since the '70's and still never went gold

Westside