Westside Driveby lyrics

by

Bun B


[E A Ski talking]
Yay, Yay
Wassup Kay Slay, Its the big homie E A Ski
Ya know, And I brought some West Coast riders with me
That'll ride on ya b*tch ass
You got a problem with Kay, You got a problem with us n*gga
Ya know, Got MC Ren and the West Coast Kam
Hey yo Ren spit it

[MC Ren]
n*gga who tryin to f*ck with the Ville'
Grab my di*k, f*ck this trick and slay my scrill
Slap the taste right outta ya grill
When I'm f*ckin' with Kam and Ski n*gga sh*t is fa real
Straight blastin' fools with these West Coast shots
Compton and Watts, My Bay n*ggas got Glocks
n*ggas runnin' an yellin' an screamin' an sh*t an cussin'
Ren smoked a blunt while Ski and Kam was bustin'
Now you b*tch ass n*ggas ain't sayin nothin'
When we pull to the curb, n*gga stop gruntin'
This West Coast sh*t, Can't be f*cked with
Or duplicated, You b*tches can hate it
Mothaf*ckin Villian is back with Ski
While he blast with his back to me
West Coast drive-by, it happens like everyday
b*tch ass mothaf*ckas gettin' chased away
It go
[Hook: MC Ren]
Woop, Woop
Thats them f*ckin' police
Woop, Woop
Them b*tches comin' for me
You know the West gone ride
n*gga hit'em up
b*tches run from the drive-by
When we pass by
n*gga
Woop, Woop
Thats them f*ckin' police
Woop, Woop
Them b*tches comin' for me
You know the West gone ride
n*gga hit'em up
b*tches run from the drive-by
When we pass by

[E A Ski]
I've been known for the AK, Glocks, and Tech's
Hit ya block up, Leave a n*gga soakin' wet
So I'd watch n*ggas scatter like roaches with the lights on
You on the block, But you won't make it back home
You better hope that this bullet got God in it, (Pray)
And I miss, When I got my f*ckin' eye on it
And I'm shootin' to blow the back and the spine out
It's all real, I would hate for you to find out
Who the f*ck makes it happen
Uhh, Its West Side n*gga, This drive-by is whats crackin'
And the corners is gettin' caught off
The funeral homes is gettin' rich off the costs
Dogg, Lay you flat down
Empty out the clips 'til you hear the (Click) sound
Uh-huh, You better know who the f*ck you dealin' with, (Who's that)
It's Mr. Ski, The West Coast Kill-A-b*tch
[Hook]

[Kam]
n*ggas hate me for the bank I'm foldin'
The rank I'm holdin'
The dank I'm polin'
They just hate to see a gangsta rollin'
I gutter ball like I'm bowling, Collectin' my ends
Tryin' to throw strikes at all these redneck white pins
In the Beamer or the Benz, Wagon or the truck
'Til my people delevered, Man I don't give a f*ck
Stay pushin' the line with mine
Treat peeps I'm with good
Anti-Hollywood and I keep my sh*t hood
A true thug, Ya gotta admit it
I bail into a club tennis shoes, jeans, white tee and a fitted
Tryin' to get it crackin', Wassup, I'm sayin'
You tryin' to go or what, I mean, You playin'
Dyke girls actin' like n*ggas, n*ggas actin' like b*tches
So I just kick back and keep stackin' my riches
Focus on my chips and give n*ggas real talk
So Bloods can skip to it and the Crips can still walk

[Hook]

[MC Ren]
It go
Woop, Woop
Thats them f*ckin' police
Woop, Woop
Them b*tches comin' for me
You know the West gone ride
n*gga hit'em up
b*tches run from the drive-by
When we pass by
n*gga, When we pass by
n*gga, When we pass by
You b*tches run from the drive-by
Drive-by, b*tches run from the drive-by
Drive-by
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