dj kay slay – westside driveby lyrics
f/ e a ski, kam, mc ren
– send corrections to the typist
[e a ski talking]
yay, yay
w-ssup kay slay, it’s the big homie e a ski
ya know, and i brought some west coast riders with me
that’ll ride on ya b-tch -ss
you got a problem with kay, you got a problem with us n-gg-
ya know, got mc ren and the west coast kam
hey yo ren spit it
[mc ren]
n-gg- who tryin to f-ck with the ville’
grab my d-ck, 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-gg- sh-t is fa real
straight blastin’ fools with these west coast shots
compton and watts, my bay n-gg-z got glocks
n-gg-z runnin’ an yellin’ an screamin’ an sh-t an cussin’
ren smoked a blunt while ski and kam was bustin’
now you b-tch -ss n-gg-z ain’t sayin nothin’
when we pull to the curb, n-gg- 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 -ss mothaf-ckas gettin’ chased away
it go
[chorus: mc ren]
woop, woop
that’s them f-ckin’ police
woop, woop
them b-tches comin’ for me
you know the west gone ride
n-gg- hit’em up
b-tches run from the drive-by
when we p-ss by
n-gg-
woop, woop
that’s them f-ckin’ police
woop, woop
them b-tches comin’ for me
you know the west gone ride
n-gg- hit’em up
b-tches run from the drive-by
when we p-ss by
[e a ski]
i’ve been known for the ak, glocks, and tech’s
hit ya block up, leave a n-gg- soakin’ wet
so i’d watch n-gg-z 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, it’s west side n-gg-, this drive-by is what’s 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
[chorus]
[kam]
n-gg-z 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’, w-ssup, i’m sayin’
you tryin’ to go or what, i mean, you playin’
dyk- girls actin’ like n-gg-s, n-gg-z actin’ like b-tches
so i just kick back and keep stackin’ my riches
focus on my chips and give n-gg-z real talk
so bloods can skip to it and the crips can still walk
[chorus]
[mc ren]
it go
woop, woop
that’s them f-ckin’ police
woop, woop
them b-tches comin’ for me
you know the west gone ride
n-gg- hit’em up
b-tches run from the drive-by
when we p-ss by
n-gg-, when we p-ss by
n-gg-, when we p-ss by
you b-tches run from the drive-by
drive-by, b-tches run from the drive-by
drive-by
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