West Coast Mentality Lyrics - Ras Kass

[Ras Kass] 

Strike three, hehe 

It's-just-thug-men-tal-i-ty, nigga. 

Ha, YEAHHH, ha, yeah-YEAHHH, uh-uhh, uhh. 

Ras Kass register Richter with nine point eight tectonic plate quakes 

Firm rubber no breaks, California plates Golden State 

Catch me sittin on the roof, bumpin Snoop 

"Gin and Juice" reminiscin bout the rides and gang truce 

Seventy degrees in the winter - tropical weather 

and vendettas cause L.A. niggaz be all about they cheddar 

Hoochie bitches and B.G.'s too big for they britches 

Curb servin, they double up to get richer 

Fuck around them lil' niggaz comin to get'cha and get wit'cha 

Dump until six hit'cha, don't let the sunshine and palm trees 

fool you get the picture, niggaz be in Hollywood thinkin it's all good 

But everything South of Wilshire, is all hood 

Niggaz committin murder 

Later that night at Tommy's eatin a chili-cheese burger 

Menace II Society, seen that 

Kobe and Shaq - Lakers bout to bring the championship ring back 

From Ladera Heights to Venice Beach 

Dime pieces with BMW leases and Cartier timepieces 

I was born to raise West coast til my casket drop 

Throw up a dub, spittin at the camera like 'Pac, ptooey 

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Chorus: Ras Kass (repeat 2X) 

Would y'all get down for me, I'ma represent my town 

so y'all represent y'all town for me 

If a G's gettin made, put it down with me 

Homey that's a West Coast Mentality 

[Ras Kass] 

Three-hundred and ten angels, flossin nine-hundred and nine fdangles(?) 

Two-hundred and thirteen sets to gangbang too 

Three-hundred and twenty-three hungry homies want steak 

Never been greedy, if I ate/eight, one-eight (donate) 

So if I gotta choose a coast, I got to choose the West 

Born and raised out there, so don't - go there 

Oh yeah, I'm the illest nigga, clownin y'all fools 

with everything y'all say like Luther Luffeigh 

I swoop through L.A. hoe, bendin y'all bitches like clay dough 

Fuck what you say doe, these streets are fatal pendejo 

So everywhere I go I take West coast with me 

Home of the driveby, Thug Life and dickies 

What you know about silk shirts (huh?) 

Cross corded snakeskin belts, flippin off the front porch 

Lesson number one - niggaz don't give a fuck 

and lesson number two remember lesson number one 

Photos 

Chorus 

[Ras Kass] 

See in L.A., niggaz don't walk, niggaz drive whips with beats 

Weak niggaz trick, most niggaz say bitches ain't shit 

but hoes gotta eat too, they all be at Club Lingerie 

with a gay down to meet you 

But fuck a three-piece suit 

Y'all niggaz dressin like y'all goin to church 

Either me and my homies get in lookin like this or we skert 

(errrrrrrrrr) and if they bullshittin, we just parkin-lot pimpin' 

Sunday night, Jamaican gold, hip-hop and cheeba 

Tuesday lesbian divas be up in Peanuts (what) 

I be fuckin baby girl and her stud 

Plus she said my dick was big, my shit be up in the gut 

Waittress bitch tryin to front like we broke, "Whattup loc?" 

Give me a Henn' and O.J. without slashin Nicole's throat 

C-arson nigga, I'm just the illest emcee 

All California Love, rest in peace Bigga B. 

Chorus 2X