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letra de lil' somethin' from da westside - ronnie ron

verse 1: yg pimp d:

a lil’ somethin’ from the hood, punk biaitch!
yg pimp d, young gangsta, b-tch
now there’s a story to be told, about these young-ass g’s
how we f-cked up the mothaf-ckin’ rap industry
i got, rats on my nuts but i don’t give a f-ck
to the tick and to the tock, i’m gon’ pimp these sl-ts
some o’ that mean, b-tches, i have no love
dum-diddy-dum-dum-diddy-dum, get yo’ ass on
front, back, side to side, you know how we do it
hittin’ three-wheel motion, and i came woop woopin’
on a mothaf-ckin’ paper chase, through the westside
og inglewood known for the homicides
and to you lolly-ass n-ggas, i’ll take yo’ shady-ass b-tch
and bank yo’ busta-ass for talkin’ that, punk-ass sh-t
n-gga, how did you figure? you can’t talk sh-t
it ain’t no stoppin’ when i let loose, with that glock snitch
you better beware, of this mothaf-ckin’ young psycho
a tale from the westside, f-ck you hoes!

verse 2: lil’ ms. china:

but d-mn, here i am, cuttin’ up sh-t like seven grams
whoopin’ that ass ’til i make a, slam
dump, pump, pumpin’ slugs inside ya
my name is china, westside rider
where n-ggas is known to serve yo’ ass up and down
but when the top game goin’, then i go against drunk
that’s why i trust, no n-gga, i trust, no b-tches
and i put the drama sh-t, when a b-tch with the set trip
now when i’m ’bout to set it off, like a rocket to the sky
dismissin’ these fools then hit ’em up with the westside
so f-ck what you stressin’, ’cause nothin’ can save ya
and this is the season where your mama’s gonna grave ya
slave ya, b-tch, ’cause the c-h-i-n-a is here
the house with this kn-b in yo’ mouth
you know, that, you n-ggas can’t f-ck with this
and you just run outta your luck with this
no ditchin’ and dodgin’ tryna duck from this
’cause when i cast that ass up, you gettin’ buckwildin’
verse 3: tip toe:

comin’ off the top off the mothaf-ckin’ brain
you b-tches cannot hang, with this little dangerous n-gga from the bottom of the crypt
kickin’ a style that’s so wicked, you know we k!ll rickets
in the hood, just for fun, buck your gun, you get done
now as i slip, and i slide, slide but never slip
i’m from og inglewood, home, of the set trip
takin’ flight, through the air, like my n-gga 20 breed
you know who i be, t-i-p t-o-e
now the sh-t that i spit is beyond the ultimate
listen close, take a guess, i leave that ass, comatose
move to the left, move to the right, ooh sh-t, i’m outta sight
to you b-tches on my nuts, know that i don’t give a f-ck
about the sh-t that you say, i get back and just parlay
now as i woop, and i doop, off the block, with the glock
as i pump, as i drop, when you drop, when you drop
it’s the sk!lls on the real, so f-ck how you feel, biaaatch!

verse 4: lil’ hawk:

shootin’ up your mothaf-ckin’ turf, n-gga, get ready for a tossin’
b-tch-ass n-ggas be bumpin’ they gums but they be flossin’
ain’t nothin’, i’m by myself breakin’ ’em off somethin’
but i’m a gangsta, n-gga, you ain’t talkin’ about nothin’
i’m steady dumpin’ and pumpin’ and pump ‘fore you lie in yo’ ass
it’s godd-mn, and i ain’t givin’ up no passes
just cappin’ asses, and creepin’ up out my crypt and sh-t
and bring it on if you think you can f-ck with this
but you think so don’t even let it cross your mind
and get yo’ ass shot with this, n-ggety-nine
i’m cickity-comin’ all the way to the tickity-top
diggity-droppin’ a bomb ’cause you know it don’t stop
you gets mopped, glock, glock fulla yellow tape
you can run, you can hide, but yo’ ass can’t escape
from um this sh-t that i be hittin’ and kickin’ and spin with
shakin’ ’em down, i’m breakin’ ’em down, emptyin’ the whole clip
b-tch, and now you know how we hoo-ride
a lil’ somethin’ from the mothaf-ckin’ westside, biatch!

- ronnie ron

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