[Prode'je]

Eastside and Westside riders

(Gangsters)

Cartel gang, nigga

(Fo' life)

What set you from?

"S.C.C."



[VERSE 1: Prode'je]

Gees tryin to move but some niggas wanna trip

Slide through yo hood bustin hollow-point tips

Eastside rider, locs without a doubt fo' the funk

Like the House Of Pain the fools 'jump'

Makin these fleas cease, niggas fleece for the piece

Double up on that ass like five g's

Ease down the Cartel road with my niggas in a 4

Lookin for the busters à la mode

Nada, suckin for your fuckin chin-checkin

Swervin through the Manchester intersection

Next in line for the ass-whippin - on a dime

The West coast stays on your mind - the line

Is thin, I'm in for the win so you lose

Original like Chuck T shoes

Who wanna dis the rider

Light a sucker up like the 4th

And leave him burnt toast



[CHORUS]

Busters don't know but I'm a Eastside rider, rider

(And if I catch you trippin, yo ass is gone)

And niggas don't know that I'm a Westside rider, rider

(And if I catch you slippin, yo ass is gone)

You get your ass bumped by the Eastside rider, rider

(And if I catch you trippin, yo ass is gone)

And get your ass fucked by the Westside rider, rider

(And if I catch you slippin, that ass is gone)



[VERSE 2: Havikk the Rhime Son]

Skatin down the 110, it's hot as fuck

Khakis on crease, pavements fucked up my Chucks

Flossin on the chip Motorola, hit the off-ramp bangin

Jesse Owens Park, neighborhood's out hangin

Glock on my hip, nigga, Westside gees

Easin through the breeze, spinnin on gold d's

Cavi-ass gangsta, nickel-plate-packer

Mark-ass-subtracter, anybody-blaster

I'm bouts to put that ass in a lynch

Marinate that ass on the curb like a bitch

Rhime Son regulatin things like Hussein, I'ma getcha

Yeah, and let these nine slugs get witcha

Dippin on a off-ramp, Rhime Son ain't nothin nice

A gangsta down to put that ass on some ice

I'm posted with the info aimed at your temple

It's simple for I to throw up Westside



[CHORUS]



[VERSE 3: Young Prod]

On a mission dippin, ratatat like that

Desert Eagle eager to lay yo ass down flat

For my scratch, knockin niggas out like I was Michael

Mack-10 got niggas' brains blowin in the wind

Holler at me rollin in a bucket lookin tacky

On the d-l don't love em cause niggas been tryin to jack me

Stackin ends, fetti, a nigga get ready to roll

Park the bucket, fuck it, nigga get ready to stroll

Walkin up the streets heated, money green gleam in my eye

Wanted to low-ride so I tried

To sell cavi but shit was too slow

So now I'm lookin for that fo'-do' lo-lo

Slow mo' West coast rider Eastsider

I'ma put it inside ya when I find ya

I'm behind ya and you're kinda scared

So be prepared, or shake the spot if you're scared



[CHORUS]



[cutting up of]

"Get yo ass beat"