[Intro]
Yee, it’s your boy, West Coast vibin’, let the beat knock,
Hyphy meets the 310, where the wild thangs pop,
Money on my mind, lowriders scrape the scene,
Angels with a devil’s grin—you know what I mean—
Penthouse views, Belaire on deck,
Floor it through the 405, no brakes, just respect,
From Slauson to Melrose, yeah, we ball,
LA, we eatin’ filet mignon, standin’ ten feet tall.
[Verse 1]
Clockin’ shorty in the crowd, Cali glow,
Red soles on the pavement, city her runway, ho,
Drop a stack on her, she know the deal,
Chrome blades on the Lac, make the curb feel.
Bay blood in my veins, but LA made me,
Money talks "cash rules"—ain’t no maybe,
Compton to WeHo, we mobbin’ in the Ghost,
Spotlight on my chain, let the ice scream the most.
[Hook]
Yee, From the Bay to LA, where the money grow,
Sip Ace of Spades, fast life, let it blow,
We gon’ party til’ the palm trees sway,
Fill the cup, OG—LA don’t play.
[Verse 2]
Sunset strip, top down, Cris’ in my hand,
Bad lil’ mamacita, Cartier tanned,
Ice on her neck like she robbed the Frost,
Hyphy in her hips, got the club lit like a fuse,
No stress, got the game in a choke,
Draped in Puma tracksuits, smoke Oak,
Inglewood nights, Crenshaw dreams,
Haters in the rearview—ain’t shit what it seems.
[Bridge]
LA—where hustlers turn legends,
Grind never sleeps, Benjamins on repetition,
Low lows, high stakes, sunset to sunrise,
West Coast kingpin—claim your throne or get neutralized.
[Verse 3]
Bossed up, got the city on a leash,
Women holler "Vibe Lord!" when I flex in the streets,
Money machines—ain’t no cap in my speech,
Keys to the game? Nah, I’m the fuckin’ key.
Gas in the tank, cash in the grip,
Party til’ the sun’s in view—no flip,
King of the West, yeah, we run this town,
Crown on my fitted, let the world look down.
[Outro]
Yee, LA—champagne wishes, foreign coupes,
Bad bitches, big checks, no groupies, just troops,
Westside ‘til the skyline bleeds gold,
Strong survive—weak get told.
MaryJane420
