South Central Cartel - West Coast Gangstas lyrics

[HAVIKK:] 4 deep on the creep, I gots the Tecs on prraahh.. Take the safety off lock, exterminate your block Leavin do' holes with .44's and 20-gauge rifles and Tecs And breakin' n***as' necks like bad checks Outrageous with 12 gauges, 'L.A. Times' front pages Leaving mingled bodies hangin' on stages Collapse n***as with raps, caps n***as with straps Smoking on the bomb, eyes tighter than Japs Rollin' evil with the Desert Eagle, schemin' Young Prod When the squad's in the house: oh my God, a homicide Is 'bout to committed, admit it You seen the Tec and you sh**ted Nickel-plate in your face, a .38 Competin, strangle the evil with low blows I dips fo' low with bad hoes, the saga unfolds The S.C. script had to design sh** to wreck your mental b**h, and plant a f**in' slug in your temple Yeah [Chorus: L.V. & PRODEJE] The West Coast Gangstas still O.G.'s Sportin' khakis and Chucks and B.V.T's. Swervin through your hood in a blue low-low Sportin' Carhartt jeans with a chrome 4-4 [PRODEJE:] G maneouvres, increasin my retaliation Shob n***as provoke could equal to your devastation My motivation is lyrication, the philosophation Acquired by the gangsta's inspiration Mentally loc'd I'm smokin' tracks like it's blunted I'm frontin' 'bout .44 mags and G rags My khakis, t-shirt and Chucks stun ya I zap you like a genie You try to escape like Whodini You plastic I'm boombastic like that muthaf**a Shaggy The Cartel keeps the groove nasty You tried to fade, but got eleminated, tried the differential But couldn't fade the f**in' instrumental My mental compound exploitin' the hoods and towns Breakin' it down, and if you trippin', yo' a** is clowned It's Mr. Prod comin' cutthroat, live through the wire The West Coast G's is on fire [Chorus...] [??? & YOUNG PROD:] Freestylin' to a instrumental in a rental Q-fo'-fever, evil side finna leave a n***a leakin, blood seekin' for the weekend Headhuntin like a dome-servin' freak and Mental scheme we G's this, we locs like that We grab Macs and reacts to open n***as' backs Welcome to the dome of terror, the era of the evil side Take n***as out the run like drive-by's Come come, test this, let's just See yo' face taste [???] just this No mistakin, [???] we're money-makin' We grab the g's, get the ki's and we shake it It ain't too easy to find me Young Prod run games like _Jumanji_ My 9 blow minds everytime I dump Takin' n***as' chests out and lump Evil Side, servin' muthaf**as from the back to the front Don't front, so where ya at? In the back of the homie's 'Lac co*kin' a strap, finna take a muthaf**a off the mat I got your back - back at ya, n***a Pull the triggers, slugs to n***as' mugs Forever Evil Side, straight gangsta [Chorus...]