Lyrical Breakdown of Some L.A. Niggaz - Instrumental - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Yeah nigga, MC Ren up in this motherfucker, West West y'all

Yeah, L.A. niggaz, L.A. niggaz rule the world nigga

Y'all niggaz gotta recognize, yaknahmsayin'?

Niggaz don't wanna peep game, yaknahmsayin'?

But this shit come all the way back around here

My nigga Dre, droppin' heat box on y'all bitch-ass

Yaknahmsayin'? You gotta recognize

L.A. niggaz, connected all over the motherfuckin' world, nigga

Recognize this

Now in my younger days I used to sport a rag

Backpack full of cans plus a four-four mag

G'd from the feet up, blued up from the sewer's how I grew up

Lockin' smokin' and drinkin 'til we threw up

At Leimert Park, taggin', hittin' fools up

Ditchin my class, just to fuck yo' school up

You don't wanna blast, nigga tuck yo' tool up

But don't sleep, y'all niggaz quick to shoot you

Now there's another motherfucker with no future

But Time Bomb much smoother when I maneuver, dope like Cuba

Got 'em jumpin'

I'm comin' "Straight Outta Compton" with a loose cannon

Smoke big green, call it Bruce Banner

Watch your manners, at last another blast from the top notch

From way back with the pop rocks, I pop lock witcha

Picture this, Dr. Dre twistin' wit Tha Liks

And Hittman bought a fix

Don't trip, it's a Time Bomb in this bitch

Here it tick tick tick tick

Wait a minute it's on, I tell it like a true mackadelic

Weed and cocaine sold separate, check it

From sundown to sunup, clown done run up

The aftermath'll be two in your gut, nigga what?

We roll deep, smoke on weed drink and pack heat

Requirements for survival each day, in L.A.

It don't stop, we still mash in hot pursuit from the cops

Analyze why we act this way, in L.A.

Gimme that mic fool, it's a West coast jack move

They call me Hitt, 'cause I spit like gats do

Cock me back

Bust caps for my max crew, at Fairfax

Who used to wear Air Max shoes, that's true

But I grew up where niggaz jack you, harass you

Blast you, for that set you claim

Mash on you for your Turkish chain, C.K. B.K.

Blued up or flame, I ran wit a gang

I helped niggaz get jacked for they Dana Dane's

My pants hang below my waistline

I look humble wanna rumble?

I bang though, like Vince Carter from the baseline, don't waste my time

Fuck a scrap in killa Cali, AK's and 9's

One-time's, sunshines, and fine-ass bitches

Hawaiian Thai, drive-by, six-fo's on switches

I was raised in the hood called What-The-Dif'

Where the brothers in the hood, refused to go Hollywood

Slugs for the fuck of it

Anybody hatin' on us can suck a dick

If I catch you touchin' mine you catch a flatline, dead on the floor

Better than yours, drivin' away gettin' head from a whore

It's AvireX-to-the-Z

Fuckin' with me might get you banned from TV

Cassette and CD it's all mine the whole nine the right time

Multiply, we don't die, the streets don't lie

What, so neither do I, I'm bad for your health

Like puttin' a pistol up to your face and blastin' yourself

Five in the mornin', burglars at my do'

Glock forty-five in my dresser drawer

Let 'em come in, blaow, he see the thunder roll

Roll with niggaz, who by fifths by the fo'

And bruise by the case

Slap you in the face with the bass, Dr. Dre laced

Likwit Kings wit Sedans and gold rings

Haters fold the style, but can't find no openings

We roll deep, smoke on weed drink and pack heat

Requirements for survival each day, in L.A.

It don't stop, we still mash in hot pursuit from the cops

Analyze why we act this way, in L.A., in L.A.

That's how we ride

That's how we ride

That's how we ride

That's how we ride