It all started on a Saturday night, I was at the Tilt Faded off a eightball, when I got the phone call I recognized the voice right off the bat Octavia, a.k.a. the neighbor-hood-rat I used to run up in her but I had to play broke Cause the bitch was known to twist mo' than hundred spokes Talkin bout a party she was givin and niggaz was dippin She wanted me and my crew to come through and I couldn't find CJ, Toones was out of town And Mack and Cube wasn't out nowhere to be found And all that bendin solo shit, played out with Cooley High Even in the movie Damon caught a black eye bitch! Ain't no peace treaty motherfuckers is losin In nineteen-ninety-eight, ain't too many niggaz chosin So what makes you think I'm comin out tonight hoe? You must be on Triple D: Dick, Dope and Dynamite She kept claimin that security was tight And if I came, we'd both be comin tonight So I jumped off my kizznouch, grabbed a coat and my coat Picturin my dick all down this bitch throat Loaded up my heater, took the black nina Jumped in my rizzide, headed for the Westside Rollin in the rigga with the naughty Bumpin "Flashlight" fool, headed for the party
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!" {WC} Uh-huh, uh-huh, fuckin with house party "L.A.! Californ-I-A!" {WC} Shit ain't safe "L.A.! Californ-I-A!" {WC} Kids don't try this at home "L.A.! Californ-I-A!"
It's goin down, the music got the whole block blastin And all I see is titties and bitches with big asses I couldn't make it through, I had to go back And park around the corner cause the street was packed So now I'm bailin to the party, eyes damn near shut Heater on my side, plus I'm high as fuck Straight trippin off 40's, hoodrats and shit With niggaz names tatted on they ankles and wrists And all these Cutlasses next to empty bottles of Hennesey An early indication of gangbangin activity Got to the do', no security in sight Just niggaz ridin on me, what that whoopty-woop like? I felt like I straight mark, walkin in the house Gettin punked by niggaz too young to get in Magic Mountain So I rolled back on em, right on the spot Told em, "Fuck your set!" That's when I heard the music stop
"Hey nigga what that stand for on your arm?" "Ni-niggaz havin cash" "You mean niggaz havin a collision" "Get that nigga!" "Don't let that nigga fall! Don't let him fall!"
Stretched out on the flo', gettin fucked up All I saw was knucklehammers and bottom of niggaz Chuck's Bitches screamin, "Kick that nigga ass for me!" He's teemin on my dome, ain't no motherfuckin sympathy I grabbed my heat and started dumpin, hit the back do' Scot free loc and who did I see? Octavia, pussy wet, drunk on the ground Passed out on her stomach with her pants hangin down
"L.A.! Californ-I-A!" {WC} Shit ain't no joke loc, fuckin with a house party! "L.A.! Californ-I-A!" {WC} Niggaz is gettin gunned down "L.A.! Californ-I-A!" {WC} Ha hah, I don't know about where y'all from But it ain't goin down where I'm from Fuckin with a house party! "L.A.! Californ-I-A!" {WC} Shit is real, check it out
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