Westside Connect OGs - The Comrads, Ice Cube, Mack 10

One, two, three, Westside Connect OG’s

And if you wanna go to the tip top

Make your Glock go peezop, P-I's

My nigga K-Mac and me

Mack 10, Ice Cube, Dub, and Bink

Squeak Ru, a crew of colored bandanas

Making paper with yayo and Arm and Hammer

Baking soda, Land Rovers, four deep in each

Street sweepers under seats

Chuck Taylors, Ben Davis from the swap meet

Flex those, Lexos, straight plug from Mexico

While y’all niggas cop it from the West Coast

We drink XO and Louis XIII

Million-dollar niggas keep in touch with the crack scene

More green than a leprechaun

At the light with your body, peel your dome back with teflon

Ring-da-da-da-ding-ding-ding-ding, ring the alarm

From the school of assault and batteries and short arms

It’s the, it’s the janky ass nigga, game spitter

Brick splitter, runnin' with nothin' but platinum hitters

Open the curtains, nigga, so the sister can get to bustin'

Y’all niggas know my name, so fuck the introduction

Run it up, turn it up, bangin' on all the competition

It’s Dub-C and the Comrads together on this mission, nigga

One, two, three, Westside Connect OG’s

And if you wanna go to the tip top

Make your Glock go peezop, P-I's

Welcome to the killing field, where everything is real

Death and murder, I know I probably served you before

It’s the nigga from next door, for sure connected

I roam the streets with heat, Westside rollin'

Swollen eye for bustas

Jealousy, you keep trailin' me

Tellin' me to stay strapped, sixteen shots in my lap

A smile on my face and death behind my eyes

Surprise, the Comrads is on the rise

Sized you up and not giving a fuck

I got a gang of homies stuck

True gangstas, quick to bank ya

Gank ya for your goods

I’m from South Central Los Skanless

With The Comrads from L-wood

Mack Manson’s back, poppin' niggas like pills

I get thrills and kills in the Hollywood Hills

If murder wasn’t the case, ain’t no tellin' where I would be

Indo and sherman keep my head where it should be

Freeze, bitch, face down on your bellies

But my cellies got dope rollin' like Pirellis

The Comrads and me, all about that big scrill

So, Connect Gang members only niggas that I kill for

One, two, three, Westside Connect OG’s

And if you wanna go to the tip top

Make your Glock go peezop, P-I's

We breakin' niggas down to nubs, slap 'em with the dub

Make 'em cover up, bustas get no love

Quick, Bink, pass me the paddle

Niggas wanna battle, they don’t know I strike like a rattle

Connection niggas on the spin, once again

You hear the siren, you can’t comprehend

I got my strap in the waistband

And if you fuck with the set, I got to blow up your place, man

Keep my fingers on the trigger

Representin' the hood and dyin' for my niggas

We the best on the planet

And fuck every politician in the world tryin' to ban it

Back to work, nigga, it’s the boss with the nina ross

Only got eight fuckin' bars to come off

Goddizzang, niggas wanna kiss the rizzang of the kizzang

Dub-S-C gizzang

Bing bing bizzang, get like seven on the dice

You might catch us slippin' once, never catch us slippin' twice

Y’all niggas gon' be moppin' our floors

You call it hip-hop, we call it Star Wars

One, two, three, Westside Connect OG’s

And if you wanna go to the tip top

Make your Glock go peezop, P-I's

One, two, three, Westside Connect OG’s

And if you wanna go to the tip top

Make your Glock go peezop, P-I's

One, two, three, Westside Connect OG’s

And if you wanna go to the tip top

Make your Glock go peezop, P-I's

Westside, Connect Gang