[Verse 1]
As a teen, I used to sport chucks with some Dickie's shorts
Pro Club, long white socks, those were the sickest clothes
If I was balling, I'd cop a jersey from Nike sports
Back when I was whack, but I still thought I had the sickest flows
I used to run with the local crew in the hood, though
Mom never approved cos she never knew what they stood for
Bunch of little bald-headed, blunt smoking teens
Who, regardless of what people thought, still had they own dreams
But, some of my homies didn't even know they daddies
I feel privileged that mine stuck around like they had me
Not trying to be a rap legend, don't get it twisted
Trying to be a legend, and my neighborhood is different
West coast, I'ma keep repping 'til my mouth dries
Peace to northern Cali, boy, but I stay in the south side
And when I'm dead underground, I'll stay committed, boy
I'll stare up in the west where my blue LA fitted, boy
[Verse 2]
I'm from the west, perro
It's in my DNA
I show respect to my older heads when I see 'em, aye
Thinking that one day, maybe that can be me
Just hoping that I live long enough to be an OG
I've been the little homie almost all of my life, brody
Streets in every order, cats were always in my life, brody
Taught me how to properly handle this beef
So I think it's kinda funny when you yap'll be these beats
Cos half the sh** you say you'll do, I doubt that
You talk about the street life, but, boy, you ain't about that
And I ain't saying I'm some sort of f**ing thug and sh**
All I'm saying is I know what it's like to grow up rough and sh**
Your daddy's rich, and your momma's good looking
So hush little baby, don't try to act like a hood kid
At this point, don't give a f** if you hate me
Now, West Coast, puto
The capitol of this gangster sound