Khao, E-40, Snoop Dogg, Ice-T, Nipsey Hussle, Problem, Mozzy, The Game and G Perico - Unified

It's your boy Khao, man
West Coast
We here
Let's go (Khao)

This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up
Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up
Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close
Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (ay, yo, Problem)

The home girls crackin' cards (cards) niggas flockin'
Mercedes-benz hittin' corners, these bitches watchin'
Dirty choppers, niggas yacked up, potted up
Best be official, tatted tears, bullet tissue
Wipe that right off, made a play for like a hundred-K
P Jay to the Bay and fucked it right off, yea (I'm out)
Black Osama
Chach-comptown Obama
Red Kool-Aid, niggas lockin' with they baby mamas
Yea, Problem, yea, that's me, champ (on God)
Tequila got me bent like knee-cap (Ice) no cap
Mixed with Dom Pérignon with that Cognac (uh-oh)
Fake shit, I'on't know that, yo' new bitch my throwback

(Nipsey) I'm in the Forbes, and I ain't relaxin'
I been to war as a famous rapper (hey)
I made mills, then I paid my taxes
Then I wifed up my favorite actress
And post pictures on vacation with a lengthy caption
Couple pies, they ain't came from Gladys
I'm surprised I escaped the madness
I grew up on under Tony, Cody, they respect, they was savage
Can't believe I carried Fatt's casket, look
I'm in my feelin's, but it ain't compassion
Six shots, but I ain't relaxin'
I got mouths to feed and they expect a sandwich
Some were down as I respect the balance
This shit real, but I accept the challenge
We shot it out in broad day, and never checked for cameras
And talk reckless on these phones just to check this cabbage
My slum burnt, it's forever scalin'
We all active, how I grew up
Caught slippin', it was never passion (ha-ha)

We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)
Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential
We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)
Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (Game, let's go)

I got murder on my mind
Hollow tips on my nine
Chronic smoke in my eyes, but I can bust it if I'm blind
Bitch, I'm on one, tatted up, my baby mama trippin'
Got me whippin' the Benz, dippin', my trigger finger itchin'
Got my drawstrings pulled tight, my Chucks on Suge Knight
My braids on O-Dog, the homie said it's on sight
So, pop goes the weasel, if I see you then your body drop
That mouth he couldn't keep closed, that's what got him shot
West side the set though, niggas is to the left lost
My strap and Bompton—two things I never let go
Tell twelve, "Fuck 'em," tell my mama I love her
She make the best potatoes and keep the fuckin' barrel smothered
I'm a killer, nigga (woo)

I'm a Steeler nigga
Black and gold to the pole, ring-ding-dong
Big King Kong
Knockin' out the teacher like I'm Cheech and Chong
As the beat goes on
Don't try and catch it, scratch, or match it
My homies layin' low under your mattress
Tactics of a Navy Seal, my baby real
She keep me up on it, you niggas don't want it
I been grippin' since the eighties, when the game was real shady
Never leave my house without my deuce five, that's my lady
She been with me a long time, 'bout—380
And I got that mothafuckin' nine milly, baby
Now, Felicia said, Keisha said, Alicia said
They all birds waitin' on a piece of bread (ha-ha)

We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)
Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential
We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)
Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (let's go)

This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up
Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up (hey)
Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close
Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (Mozzy, let's go)

High as funk, when you broke and niggas need a pistol
Your brother blasted outta state, and he ain't leave a pistol? (Huh?)
Feed it crystal, let it go and Run the G.F.e. (yeah)
My young life boost your door behind a PS3
Lemon juice inside the recipe, the fiends love it
We needed onions, they only funded us double ups (hey)
We was up and comin', the tweakers ain't never come to us
Three for twenty-five is the only reason they fuck with us (woo ooh)
Blue Mercedes, the gator, and now we down to run (hey)
Never take a trip with a Demon, they never gun enough (hey)
Never been the type, But the homie never had to bump me up (hey)
I love you if you dropped on the bail when the fifth cuffed me up (yeah)

Look (let's go)
West side gangsta, young rich gang banger
Got arrested, bailed out before I hit the station
(Hey) back to the spot, we wade deep on the block
We gon' fight and shoot, whether it's even or not
I'm just a Broadway baby, young Broadway gangsta
It's a drought on the real, so ain't no enemies hatin' (hey)
Truce fleece blanket, Crip blue bangin'
Quarter million-dollar car, still around the hood hangin'
Still pullin' up on haters, you don't like it then come fade me
Ballin' gettin' paper (hey) goin' crazy (oh)
See me in traffic, got that shit I be rappin'
I ain't under no pressure, that's why these niggas mad at it, it's G

This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up
West up, West up, West up, West up (let the Kessler speak, man)

(E-40)
Dirty deeds, cleanin' my pistol and eatin' sunflower seeds
Hella keys like a custodian, or should I say janitor (janitor)
I'm a expert at gettin' money, ho, I ain't an amateur (amateur)
Your bitch keep callin' my phone, she want me to manage her (manage her)
I told her to leave me alone, I'm off this bottle (bottle)
Not only that, but I heard she got blue waffle (blue waffle)
I wouldn't fuck that ho with your dick, fool
I'm a fixture, a factor, a ball-oholic
Whatever I want I bought it
You name it I got it
Turn it and flip in my pockets, they're talkin' the town mob
Ridin' around with a frown with my goblins

(Hold up, before we end this off)
(We gotta take it back to where it all started)
(The OG, Ice-T)

(What the fuck?) Don't ask, gray beard's black mass
Crack that safe fast, pistol-whip your bitch ass
OG, old nigga, 40 cal., Hair trigger
Fed more fuckin' fans than FEMA, diss me and I'll come to see ya
Just because you're still alive, slipped and thought the beef died
The big homie sent a gite, green light's on for life
Still on my bullshit, Black Ghost full of Crips
Want some, get some, pop off, get done
(Brra) a hundred round drum on a handgun
Pushed the line, get tacked, shots call from super max
Now you got the drama, what you gonna do?
I couldn't stop my niggas if I wanted to

This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up
Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up
Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close
Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast
(You're welcome)

Written by:
Earl Stevens, Calvin Cordozar Broadus, Jr., Ermias Asghedom, Jason Martin, Timothy P. Patterson, Jayceon Terrell Taylor, Jeremy Nash, Tracy Lauren Marrow, Kevin Cates

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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