[Prode'je]
Eastside and Westside riders
(Gangsters)
Cartel gang, n***a
(Fo' life)
What set you from?
"S.C.C."
[VERSE 1: Prode'je]
Gees tryin to move but some n***as wanna trip
Slide through yo hood bustin hollow-point tips
Eastside rider, locs without a doubt fo' the funk
Like the House Of Pain the fools 'jump'
Makin these fleas cease, n***as fleece for the piece
Double up on that a** like five g's
Ease down the Cartel road with my n***as in a 4
Lookin for the busters à la mode
Nada, s**in for your f**in chin-checkin
Swervin through the Manchester intersection
Next in line for the a**-whippin - on a dime
The West coast stays on your mind - the line
Is thin, I'm in for the win so you lose
Original like Chuck T shoes
Who wanna dis the rider
Light a s**er up like the 4th
And leave him burnt toast
[Chorus]
Busters don't know but I'm a Eastside rider, rider
(And if I catch you trippin, yo a** is gone)
And n***as don't know that I'm a Westside rider, rider
(And if I catch you slippin, yo a** is gone)
You get your a** bumped by the Eastside rider, rider
(And if I catch you trippin, yo a** is gone)
And get your a** f**ed by the Westside rider, rider
(And if I catch you slippin, that a** is gone)
[VERSE 2: Havikk the Rhime Son]
Skatin down the 110, it's hot as f**
Khakis on crease, pavements f**ed up my Chucks
Flossin on the chip Motorola, hit the off-ramp bangin
Jesse Owens Park, neighborhood's out hangin
Glock on my hip, n***a, Westside gees
Easin through the breeze, spinnin on gold d's
Cavi-a** gangsta, nickel-plate-packer
Mark-a**-subtracter, anybody-blaster
I'm bouts to put that a** in a lynch
Marinate that a** on the curb like a b**h
Rhime Son regulatin things like Hussein, I'ma getcha
Yeah, and let these nine slugs get witcha
Dippin on a off-ramp, Rhime Son ain't nothin nice
A gangsta down to put that a** on some ice
I'm posted with the info aimed at your temple
It's simple for I to throw up Westside
[Chorus]
[VERSE 3: Young Prod]
On a mission dippin, ratatat like that
Desert Eagle eager to lay yo a** down flat
For my scratch, knockin n***as out like I was Michael
Mack-10 got n***as' brains blowin in the wind
Holler at me rollin in a bucket lookin tacky
On the d-l don't love em cause n***as been tryin to jack me
Stackin ends, fetti, a n***a get ready to roll
Park the bucket, f** it, n***a get ready to stroll
Walkin up the streets heated, money green gleam in my eye
Wanted to low-ride so I tried
To sell cavi but sh** was too slow
So now I'm lookin for that fo'-do' lo-lo
Slow mo' West coast rider Eastsider
I'ma put it inside ya when I find ya
I'm behind ya and you're kinda scared
So be prepared, or shake the spot if you're scared
[Chorus]
[cutting up of]