| It’s the return to the city of the angels and demons |
| Where the party’s still popping while the neighbors is sleeping |
| Police helicopters flying over our heads |
| I don’t know what happened but I hope that nobody’s dead |
| You know that shit don’t stop so now it’s back to the basics |
| Living above the law, that’s some classic LA shit |
| And banging Pac, Cube, Snoop, Eazy, and Dre shit |
| Been on a hiatus, now we back to our greatness |
| Since I was kid, my best friend was Kurupt |
| Yo-Yo was my bitch and DJ Quik was my unc' |
| Mack 10 and Dub-C taught me to tie my Chucks |
| And Nate Dogg was my nigga, he never left me on stuck |
| I give my city a hug and make love to the pavement |
| Where I live at everyday is like a fucking vacation |
| Hoes come to my city, looking for a vocation |
| I tell him get with this pick up or she |
| Ya bitch wanna smoke with a nigga |
| She said you’s a broke ass nigga |
| And girls just wanna have fun |
| Ride around, top down in the sun |
| She want a nigga that can |
| Buy her something, buy her something, buy her something |
| She need a nigga that can |
| Buy her something, buy her something, buy her something |
| Yea, yea |
| K I heard from this old throwback I been dying to cut down |
| She used to be a dime, heard she got her a son now |
| Tryna get at me, but she got a big gut now |
| And showed up to my crib weighing two hundred plus pounds |
| You tryna guess if I still got in them guts, wow |
| I did though, don’t act like you never fucked with no big ho |
| We from that big coast where the 6 4's hop |
| And where the guns might bust, and where there’s none like us |
| House parties cracking 'til the sun light’s up |
| Name another trio with a buzz like us |
| Name another trio who can bust like us |
| Who get love like us, but there’s none I trust |
| Say rest in peace to the homie Chick Hearn |
| Floss too much and you bound to get served |
| Talk reckless and it’s bound to get heard |
| Niggas booking flights into town just for the herbs |
| Don’t think it’s just the birds |
| Surfing and sunshine |
| Run that light and you swerve into one time, some broke, some fly |
| Cutthroat, cut ties |
| That nigga sixteen, how he get double life, for tryna bubble white |
| Pack heats and |
| Niggas after cash like it’s always tax season |
| Pull a Breezil with ass fat, cleavage |
| Met her Friday, got the ass that weekend |
| Hatchback beating, where the cash at, seek it |
| Wear the wrong hat, you can catch that beating |
| Laderas and the swang, we in the parking lot chiefin' |
| Yea, that’s the city that I’mma never leaving |
| We get high |