[Featuring Lunasice Marvaless]
(chorus)
California's the state where punk niggas die.
First thought be survival every mornin' when I rise.
So many murders and homicides in front of my eyes.
It's just some ballin' ass niggas down to die for the West Side.
California's the state where all bustas die.
First thought be survival every mornin' when I rise.
So many murders and homicides in front of my eyes.
It's just some ballin'-ass niggas down to die for the West Side.
Verse 1:
(C-Bo)
It could be the napalm, droppin' non stop bombs,
Armed like vietnam, dominatin' like King Kong.
Lyrical madness, step up, take up, and start blastin'.
Wicked as Stephen King when my mental and vocal clashes.
Syrran wrap, like a boa constrictor, wrappin' ya.
Up from your feet to your neck, nigga, attackin' ya.
These 4-5 hollow tips will have you backin' up.
I only do my dirt at night like dracula.
Verse 2:
(Lunasice)
I'm wanted by the feds, these niggas, they want me dead,
Cuz I done spread through their territory like the HIV.
Sun down spots, suckas swallow glocks.
If they know by these rocks I'm pushin' for the blocks.
Every corner you past, that show will run him up in his ass.
Gettin' the cash, while Mr. Bad puts down the smash.
I dumps quick, my clique be so thick,
With hi-tech mob shit, crooked as Soviet.
(chorus)
Verse 3:
(C-Bo)
The house on the water, independent shippin' quarters,
Movin' tapes like K across every border.
Takin' over your brain, causin' addiction like 'caine,
More deadly than a grand shot of Heroine in the vein.
Inflict pain, on any nigga that step in my range.
Retalliate with hollow
