Various Artists - Survival 1st lyrics

(chorus) California's the state, where punk n***as die First thought be survival every mornin' when I rise So many murders and homicides in front of my eyes It's just some ballin'-a** n***as down to die for the West Side California's the state, where all bustas die First thought be survival every mornin' when I rise So many murders and homicides in front of my eyes It's just some ballin'-a** n***as down to die for the West Side Verse 1: (C-Bo) It could be the napalm, droppin' non stop bombs Armed like vietnam, dominatin' like King Kong Lyrical madness, step up, take up, and start blastin' Wicked as Stephen King when my mental and vocal clashes Syrran wrap, like a boa constrictor, wrappin' ya Up from your feet to your neck, n***a, attackin' ya These 4-5 hollow tips will have you backin' up I only do my dirt at night like dracula Verse 2: (Lunasice) I'm wanted by the feds, these n***as, they want me dead Cuz I done spread through their territory like the HIV Sun down spots, s**as swallow Glocks If they know by these rocks I'm pushin' for the blocks Every corner you past, that show will run him up in his a** Gettin' the cash, while Mr. Bad puts down the smash I dumps quick, my clique be so thick With hi-tech mob sh**, crooked as Soviet (chorus) Verse 3: (C-Bo) The house on the water, independent shippin' quarters Movin' tapes like K across every border Takin' over your brain, causin' addiction like 'caine More deadly than a grand shot of Heroine in the vein Inflict pain, on any n***a that step in my range Retalliate with hollow tips, blast, and splatter your brain So remain calm, this sh** is C-4 bomb Set trip off your motherf**in' city like 'Nam Best recognize, step up and check eyes Ain't to many busta-a** n***as from the West Side I do or die for mine, livin' life like I'm blind Solo on a flame line, dumpin' hollow tip 9's Verse 4: (Marvaless) Survival first, ask questions later Movin' patterns on your b**h-a** cuz I heard that you was a hater. Oh who Can save ya? Defeated your purpose, now you caught up in some deep sh** Who got the deepest murder clique, that's some would sick This game is way past wicked. Still I commence to kick it West side n***as stackin' meal tickets Surpa**in' weak b**hes, evadin' snitches, and sayin' bomb k**afornia style when we ride droppin' bombs Verse 5: (C-Bo) Palay Palay, Tommy Hilfiger cold, can I? Polo, Jabo, Guess, Khakis and Levis Ballers is what they call us, too much for the ATL Lexus, Benz, Beemer, Vet, VIP, 112 Might catch me at the Platinum, sippin' on some Hen, rolex down Ride ST 400 Lex through the town Clown, and you'll catch a hot metal tab up to the chest Don't make me k** a n***a out east and head West Side Till I die, reason why, I stay high To maintain my composure and attitude when I ride Don' push me, I'm too close to the edge Might take one to the head (chorus X2) Verse 6: (C-Bo) It's the season of the sickness, marks on my sh**list Comin' up out the psychadelic bui'ness, don't sit in it When I gets to bustin', I let loose like a Mac-10 I'm born and raised a hustler, got love for my family, f** friends Never been disgusted, but I just like love it Wit my streetsweeper, put hoes in your bucket Man, I just say f** it, I can't live with society Now, how many n***as in yo clique wanna ride on me? (chorus to end)