(feat. 2Pac, Butch Cassidy, Crooked I, E-40, Kurupt) 



[Woman + man talking] 

Welcome to California 

Remix! Remix! Remix! Remix! Remix! 



[Mack 10 talking] 

Uh, West Coast, Mack 10, Sly Boogy and the rest of the homies 

Look.. 



[Verse 1: Mack 10] 

See I was raised at the gutter 

And no matter what happened I got that raw cane & water 

I ain't dependin' on rappin' 

And I ain't wit the disrespect, watch ya mouth when ya yappin' 

I grab the homies and some bullies, hit ya block and start slappin' 

And I got so much aqua, my traps got floods on it 

Gettin' that rubber band money and who cares if Bloods is on it? 

Mack 10, one of the few West Coasters to shine 

And most of them got the mainstream, the hood is mine 



[Verse 2: Jayo Felony] 

Man, I'm quick to tell a killer that I'm iller than he is 

See, and I'm a G since it's me and my peeps, please 

Look I'm the quickest no stitches, hit switches 

And I love these witches that be gobblin' snobbishness 

We takin' wrist watches, we be plottin' on change main 

Why did I hit you up? Homie this is the gang thang 

Can't hang with us gorillas, you just an orangutan 

Sly and Bullet Loco gone bring these killers PAIN! 



[Verse 3: Sly Boogy] 

Right, alright, hold up, trip (ha ha!) 

Me and my niggaz came to blow up shit (yeeah) 

And show these niggaz how to flow that spit (yeeah) 

And quit actin' like some hoe-ass tricks (Sly Boogy!) 

Fool, you know who the hell it is (yeeah) 

I'm clickin' up wit all my cousins and relatives 

And you could roll wit us and rep yo' block 

And we could show these motherfuckers how the West Coast rock! 

So come on 



[Chorus: Butch Cassidy, Truth Hurts + (Sly Boogy)] 

Everybody all around the world (yeah) 

All the little baby boys and girls (alright) 

Can't sleep cause they wanna know what's goin' on in California! 

All the seeds all across the globe 

People comin' from coast to coast 

For the show cause they wanna know what's goin' on in California! 



[Verse 4: E-40] 

Talk to me, I talk back, ain't no need to explain 

Y'all know my name 

Y'all know who this is rappin' over this steel trap 

Y'all know it's the man wit the slang 

Use no pedal when pushin' that cane 

Everything that I ever sold in the street it was top grade 

Magazines, three mics, sprinkle truth in the game, spit the venom 

Every rapper got a little E-40 up in em 

Every rapper off the heezy fo' sheezy 

I thought you plot em wit Jigga down 

For shit got down 



[Verse 5: Kurupt] 

Switches, bitches, chrome deep dishes 

Impalas, pop collars and pop collar bones 

It's California, Gangstaville, in ya mouth, all up on ya 

Cologne, you California 

I'm Chuck All Stars, chronic sack, skull hat, Nissan truck 

Not to give a fuck, Kurupt 

86 gang bang, World War III 

Thunder Dome, Crenshaw, Chemical Ali 

California nigga! 



[Chorus: Butch Cassidy, Truth Hurts + (Sly Boogy)] 



[Verse 6: Crooked I] 

The women hop in the whip 

They love the way the speakers be subbin' in eight places 

I represent Cali like Governor Gray Davis 

On roller coaster rims, I own my own company pal 

I'm slangin' spinners, how you lovin' me now 

In L.A. you gotta be do or die in junior high 

He's Sly, I'm Crooked I and we ride - you know?! 

And I'm Death Row, heartless and lethal 

You seen Menace to Society, I should start in the sequel 

Yeeah 



[Verse 7: Roscoe] 

Blaze up the sticky dro, raise up the '64 

Sittin' low at the liquor store 

He's better than generous, inconsiderate 

On a shwe wit a cigarette 

You know that nigga Young Roscoe rollin' in the Cadillac 

rag on these (on these) 

I got my Khakillac (Khakis) saggin' wit the crease 

And everybody wanna know like, "what's up wit Sco?" 

It's Y.A. Killafornia! 



[Verse 8: 2Pac] 

Know for doin' scandalous deeds, no handlin' me 

And nah it ain't the drugs, it's the straight thug nigga in me 

I swoop down and cause havoc 

My rapid delivery is automatic, lettin' niggaz have it 

I been labelled as a thug nigga 

Since they don't sell my shit to white folks, ship it to the drug dealers 

And catch a, catch a nigga worldwide 

A fucking Mob Figga, West Coast who ride! 



[Chorus: Butch Cassidy, Truth Hurts + (Sly Boogy)] 



[Woman + man talking] 

We hope you have enjoyed your stay (stay, stay) 

Think about this stuff (think about this stuff)