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Artist: Kurupt f/ Eastwood, Keith Roc, Stacey Adams
Album:  War, Vol. 1 Mixtape 
Song:   West Coast Fire
Typed by:

Los Angeles, California
(Fuck y'all niggaz)
You now rockin' with the West
Stacey Adams, ha ha
Kurupt Young Gotti, Eastwood
Death Row, through it all, nigga
Smashin' on you bustas, for the 'double 0-4
Yeah, I see you, what up homie?
You know what time it is - let me do it to 'em

[Stacey Adams]
Niggaz hate me, fuck 'em though, I'm hot like a sauna
Niggaz talkin' shit, get prepared for the - karma
Thirty shot clip, hollow tip's, and a - warmer
'61 Chevy, chrome D's bend a - corner
Watch your back when you come to Cali-fornia
This the first and the last time I'm gon' - warn ya
I see you niggaz gettin' scared, my gun go 'pop'
Motherfuckers know I'm aimin' for the head - yeah
You motherfuckers actin' like - us
Stacey got the whole spot packed full of - Bloods
Growin' purple with the yak in they - cups
Stacey and Kurupt 'bout to go platinum - plus
You don't wanna get your boy smacked - up
Blue and red rags in the club, that's - us
I'm from the Eastside Pacoma, run up on you
Motherfucker put your hands up, turn yo' ass around
I'm in the lab with the big homie - Keeter
Smash out, beat 12's like - 'see ya'
Twenty G's when I swipe the platinum - Visa
Black Angels cap, all black - Fila's
Spittin' hot like the boy got the - fever
I got the shank, Eastwood got the - heater
I got a pocket full of big faced - bills
Twenty G's with your bitch ass - skill

I'll step in the party, I got my own dank
Own drank, own bank, Bentley Phantom, full tank
My persona is top rank - when my heart feel shank
So I keep a automatic weapon, goin' hard in the paint
You niggaz ain't right
Go soft on a bitch, I'll make some tricks
So break bread or fake dead, we the gang bitch, uh
Let's get it crackin' homie, show me your game face
I'll put a nigga in his place, see what the game rate
Sixteen balls of fire, it's hot lava
With thirty-two balls of heat, I'm on fire
I like them bad hoes in the wife - beaters
I only roll with the O.G. - Keeter
We in the black Lambourgini, two - seater
Strapped up with two cannons, some know 'em as heaters
Original gustapo, Death Row's the label
So catch a fare when I get jumped like cables

Elastic, little plastic imitations
And drastic tactics for blastin', clappin', snappin' nigga
I like a bitch in a bomb wife - beater
I'll roll the streets with my O.G. - Keeter
Straight Crippin' in a blue two - seater
If you gotta be the bitch, you don't - need her
All hood nigga, neighborhood - Rollin'
See faulty and the homies start - foldin'
Everything in the vicinity from - Rollin'
I've been runnin' shit since the '9 - fever
Keeter gunnin' shit with the 'fo - fever
I humped up the shit quick with the - nina
Lisa Left Eye changed her name to - N.I.N.A.
One hit record, I'ma fuck - Trina
Stacey Adams in a all red Phantom
Classic interaction from the nickel's and mack's
Elastic, little plastic imitations
And drastic tactics from blastin' and clappin', snappin'
Seattle Mariners hat to the left, not the back
I'ma curse, with a paltered verse of words
Seperate the whole formula first
Second, I'll leave niggaz in a coma
I'm Gotti Adolf Hitler, nigga - boa
You ain't gon' show the bitch, let me - show her

[Hook: Keith Roc]
We some riders, up in here
This straight West Coast, we spit fire
We some riders, up in here
This straight West Coast, we spit fire
We some riders, up in here
This straight West Coast, we spit fire
We some riders, up in here
This straight West Coast, we spit fire