One fuckin' nigga in the projects killin'
The same motherfucker that would
burn down the village
Where the niggas blunt full of that
You know, who gone take you back
to Compton In that 64 two door
Sub woofers in the trunk kickin'
that lethal injection
A hood nigga lost with no direction
So he bought a Black
Smith and Wesson
Strapped on his vest and
that's his protection
At the intersection
waitin' on the robber
Cause in the city of Angels it's all about survival,
Motherfuck the 5- 0, They wanna see you DOA,
welcome to L.A.
Where the ghetto birds flyin' over my
auntie's and my cousin's house
Tell me what they buzzin' bout
The little homie got smoked on the corner
And now his momma cryin',
dead in California
Motherfuckers ain't gone learn,
Till the chronic blunt don't burn
And you can't see nuthin' but the
ghetto bird light shinin'
Through the fuckin' palm trees,
California ain't a state it's
a army
Motherfuckers
Jumped in my impala took a
trip to the swap meat,
The scoop bought EGO trippin'
and some white T's
Cause some niggas in my old
hood don't like me
Time to put the niggas on check,
like my Nike's
Shoulda heard my my nigga
Mack 10 on the chirp
All I need is me and my bitch,
If you scared go to church,
Cause in California niggas
crack heads for the turf
And life ain't nothin' but
Teck- 9's and dirt
Dippin' through the the jungles,
my Escalade hit a dip
Here come the gorillas in the mist
And they dressed like Ice Cube was in 96
Stone cold jerry curl and not one drip
I sleep with the worms before
I swim with the fish
And I ride with my niggas
before I roll with a bitch
If it don't make dollars it
don't make sense
And I almost got shot because
I hit a fence
Motherfuckers ain't gone learn,
Till the chronic blunt don't burn
And you can't see nuthin' but the
ghetto bird light shinin'
Through the fuckin' palm trees,
California ain't a state it's
a army
Motherfuckers
ain't gone learn,
Till the chronic blunt don't burn
And you can't see nuthin' but
the ghetto bird light shinin'
Through the fuckin' palm trees,
California ain't a state it's a army
Call the U.S. government and tell em
it's a mutherfuckin' code red,
Niggas tried to straight up jack me
an d now they both dead
Third little nigga got away
on his mo- ped
Caught him 'round the corner put
the beam on his forehead
Jumped in the impala then
smashed through the light
Without a one time in sight,
So I bust a right on Century
headed to the L.A.X.
Where there ain't nothin' but
fly bitches and checks
In and out of lanes and I almost wrecked
Off Brand a nigga in the
600 throwin up his set
He must don't know I got
the 40 on deck
And the teck tryin' be Shot
but it ain't time to flex
It's the third this shit
happened to me all day
Guess it's time to add another
dead body to the throw away
So I turned down my Spice
1 tape and hit the switch
Emptied the whole clip in his
fuckin' face
Motherfuckers ain't gone learn,
Till the chronic blunt don't burn
And you can't see nuthin' but the
ghetto bird light shinin'
Through the fuckin' palm trees,
California ain't a state it's
a army
Motherfuckers
The Game And Ice Cube 
