[{"id":23673352,"name":"Unified (feat. Nipsey Hussle, Snoop Dogg, The Game, E-40, ICE-T, Mozzy, Problem, G Perico)","trackName":"Unified (feat. Nipsey Hussle, Snoop Dogg, The Game, E-40, ICE-T, Mozzy, Problem, G Perico)","artistName":"Khao","albumName":"Unified (feat. Nipsey Hussle, Snoop Dogg, The Game, E-40, ICE-T, Mozzy, Problem, G Perico)","duration":372.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's your boy Khao, man\nWest Coast\nWe here\nLet's go (Khao)\nThis that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\nBlack, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\nGettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\nUnified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (ay, yo, Problem)\nThe home girls crackin' cards (cards) niggas flockin'\nMercedes-benz hittin' corners, these bitches watchin'\nDirty choppers, niggas yacked up, potted up\nBest be official, tatted tears, bullet tissue\nWipe that right off, made a play for like a hundred-K\nP Jay to the Bay and fucked it right off, yea (I'm out)\nBlack Osama\nChach-comptown Obama\nRed Kool-Aid, niggas lockin' with they baby mamas\nYea, Problem, yea, that's me, champ (on God)\nTequila got me bent like knee-cap (Ice) no cap\nMixed with Dom Pérignon with that Cognac (uh-oh)\nFake shit, I'on't know that, yo' new bitch my throwback\n(Nipsey) I'm in the Forbes, and I ain't relaxin'\nI been to war as a famous rapper (hey)\nI made mills, then I paid my taxes\nThen I wifed up my favorite actress\nAnd post pictures on vacation with a lengthy caption\nCouple pies, they ain't came from Gladys\nI'm surprised I escaped the madness\nI grew up on under Tony, Cody, they respect, they was savage\nCan't believe I carried Fatt's casket, look\nI'm in my feelin's, but it ain't compassion\nSix shots, but I ain't relaxin'\nI got mouths to feed and they expect a sandwich\nSome were down as I respect the balance\nThis shit real, but I accept the challenge\nWe shot it out in broad day, and never checked for cameras\nAnd talk reckless on these phones just to check this cabbage\nMy slum burnt, it's forever scalin'\nWe all active, how I grew up\nCaught slippin', it was never passion (ha-ha)\nWe official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\nStreet credentials, automatic street sweep potential\nWe official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\nStreet credentials, automatic street sweep potential (Game, let's go)\nI got murder on my mind\nHollow tips on my nine\nChronic smoke in my eyes, but I can bust it if I'm blind\nBitch, I'm on one, tatted up, my baby mama trippin'\nGot me whippin' the Benz, dippin', my trigger finger itchin'\nGot my drawstrings pulled tight, my Chucks on Suge Knight\nMy braids on O-Dog, the homie said it's on sight\nSo, pop goes the weasel, if I see you then your body drop\nThat mouth he couldn't keep closed, that's what got him shot\nWest side the set though, niggas is to the left lost\nMy strap and Bompton—two things I never let go\nTell twelve, \"Fuck 'em,\" tell my mama I love her\nShe make the best potatoes and keep the fuckin' barrel smothered\nI'm a killer, nigga (woo)\nI'm a Steeler nigga\nBlack and gold to the pole, ring-ding-dong\nBig King Kong\nKnockin' out the teacher like I'm Cheech and Chong\nAs the beat goes on\nDon't try and catch it, scratch, or match it\nMy homies layin' low under your mattress\nTactics of a Navy Seal, my baby real\nShe keep me up on it, you niggas don't want it\nI been grippin' since the eighties, when the game was real shady\nNever leave my house without my deuce five, that's my lady\nShe been with me a long time, 'bout—380\nAnd I got that mothafuckin' nine milly, baby\nNow, Felicia said, Keisha said, Alicia said\nThey all birds waitin' on a piece of bread (ha-ha)\nWe official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\nStreet credentials, automatic street sweep potential\nWe official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\nStreet credentials, automatic street sweep potential (let's go)\nThis that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\nBlack, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up (hey)\nGettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\nUnified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (Mozzy, let's go)\nHigh as funk, when you broke and niggas need a pistol\nYour brother blasted outta state, and he ain't leave a pistol? (Huh?)\nFeed it crystal, let it go and Run the G.F.e. (yeah)\nMy young life boost your door behind a PS3\nLemon juice inside the recipe, the fiends love it\nWe needed onions, they only funded us double ups (hey)\nWe was up and comin', the tweakers ain't never come to us\nThree for twenty-five is the only reason they fuck with us (woo ooh)\nBlue Mercedes, the gator, and now we down to run (hey)\nNever take a trip with a Demon, they never gun enough (hey)\nNever been the type, But the homie never had to bump me up (hey)\nI love you if you dropped on the bail when the fifth cuffed me up (yeah)\nLook (let's go)\nWest side gangsta, young rich gang banger\nGot arrested, bailed out before I hit the station\n(Hey) back to the spot, we wade deep on the block\nWe gon' fight and shoot, whether it's even or not\nI'm just a Broadway baby, young Broadway gangsta\nIt's a drought on the real, so ain't no enemies hatin' (hey)\nTruce fleece blanket, Crip blue bangin'\nQuarter million-dollar car, still around the hood hangin'\nStill pullin' up on haters, you don't like it then come fade me\nBallin' gettin' paper (hey) goin' crazy (oh)\nSee me in traffic, got that shit I be rappin'\nI ain't under no pressure, that's why these niggas mad at it, it's G\nThis that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\nWest up, West up, West up, West up (let the Kessler speak, man)\n(E-40)\nDirty deeds, cleanin' my pistol and eatin' sunflower seeds\nHella keys like a custodian, or should I say janitor (janitor)\nI'm a expert at gettin' money, ho, I ain't an amateur (amateur)\nYour bitch keep callin' my phone, she want me to manage her (manage her)\nI told her to leave me alone, I'm off this bottle (bottle)\nNot only that, but I heard she got blue waffle (blue waffle)\nI wouldn't fuck that ho with your dick, fool\nI'm a fixture, a factor, a ball-oholic\nWhatever I want I bought it\nYou name it I got it\nTurn it and flip in my pockets, they're talkin' the town mob\nRidin' around with a frown with my goblins\n(Hold up, before we end this off)\n(We gotta take it back to where it all started)\n(The OG, Ice-T)\n(What the fuck?) Don't ask, gray beard's black mass\nCrack that safe fast, pistol-whip your bitch ass\nOG, old nigga, 40 cal., Hair trigger\nFed more fuckin' fans than FEMA, diss me and I'll come to see ya\nJust because you're still alive, slipped and thought the beef died\nThe big homie sent a gite, green light's on for life\nStill on my bullshit, Black Ghost full of Crips\nWant some, get some, pop off, get done\n(Brra) a hundred round drum on a handgun\nPushed the line, get tacked, shots call from super max\nNow you got the drama, what you gonna do?\nI couldn't stop my niggas if I wanted to\nThis that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\nBlack, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\nGettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\nUnified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast\n(You're welcome)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.20] It's your boy Khao, man\n[00:02.20] West Coast\n[00:03.72] We here\n[00:08.20] Let's go (Khao)\n[00:09.30] This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n[00:12.52] Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\n[00:15.35] Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n[00:18.27] Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (ay, yo, Problem)\n[00:21.33] The home girls crackin' cards (cards) niggas flockin'\n[00:24.34] Mercedes-benz hittin' corners, these bitches watchin'\n[00:27.06] Dirty choppers, niggas yacked up, potted up\n[00:30.13] Best be official, tatted tears, bullet tissue\n[00:33.04] Wipe that right off, made a play for like a hundred-K\n[00:35.79] P Jay to the Bay and fucked it right off, yea (I'm out)\n[00:38.83] Black Osama\n[00:40.03] Chach-comptown Obama\n[00:41.69] Red Kool-Aid, niggas lockin' with they baby mamas\n[00:44.45] Yea, Problem, yea, that's me, champ (on God)\n[00:47.36] Tequila got me bent like knee-cap (Ice) no cap\n[00:50.28] Mixed with Dom Pérignon with that Cognac (uh-oh)\n[00:52.91] Fake shit, I'on't know that, yo' new bitch my throwback\n[00:55.33] (Nipsey) I'm in the Forbes, and I ain't relaxin'\n[00:58.02] I been to war as a famous rapper (hey)\n[01:00.39] I made mills, then I paid my taxes\n[01:02.33] Then I wifed up my favorite actress\n[01:04.50] And post pictures on vacation with a lengthy caption\n[01:07.23] Couple pies, they ain't came from Gladys\n[01:09.61] I'm surprised I escaped the madness\n[01:11.59] I grew up on under Tony, Cody, they respect, they was savage\n[01:15.56] Can't believe I carried Fatt's casket, look\n[01:18.67] I'm in my feelin's, but it ain't compassion\n[01:21.42] Six shots, but I ain't relaxin'\n[01:23.35] I got mouths to feed and they expect a sandwich\n[01:26.05] Some were down as I respect the balance\n[01:28.45] This shit real, but I accept the challenge\n[01:30.36] We shot it out in broad day, and never checked for cameras\n[01:33.32] And talk reckless on these phones just to check this cabbage\n[01:36.26] My slum burnt, it's forever scalin'\n[01:38.59] We all active, how I grew up\n[01:40.09] Caught slippin', it was never passion (ha-ha)\n[01:42.06] We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n[01:44.92] Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential\n[01:47.69] We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n[01:50.78] Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (Game, let's go)\n[01:53.48] I got murder on my mind\n[01:54.80] Hollow tips on my nine\n[01:56.20] Chronic smoke in my eyes, but I can bust it if I'm blind\n[01:59.26] Bitch, I'm on one, tatted up, my baby mama trippin'\n[02:02.01] Got me whippin' the Benz, dippin', my trigger finger itchin'\n[02:04.88] Got my drawstrings pulled tight, my Chucks on Suge Knight\n[02:07.98] My braids on O-Dog, the homie said it's on sight\n[02:11.03] So, pop goes the weasel, if I see you then your body drop\n[02:13.66] That mouth he couldn't keep closed, that's what got him shot\n[02:16.86] West side the set though, niggas is to the left lost\n[02:19.33] My strap and Bompton—two things I never let go\n[02:22.20] Tell twelve, \"Fuck 'em,\" tell my mama I love her\n[02:25.09] She make the best potatoes and keep the fuckin' barrel smothered\n[02:28.28] I'm a killer, nigga (woo)\n[02:29.52] I'm a Steeler nigga\n[02:30.79] Black and gold to the pole, ring-ding-dong\n[02:33.67] Big King Kong\n[02:35.16] Knockin' out the teacher like I'm Cheech and Chong\n[02:37.12] As the beat goes on\n[02:39.09] Don't try and catch it, scratch, or match it\n[02:42.22] My homies layin' low under your mattress\n[02:44.92] Tactics of a Navy Seal, my baby real\n[02:47.98] She keep me up on it, you niggas don't want it\n[02:51.10] I been grippin' since the eighties, when the game was real shady\n[02:53.96] Never leave my house without my deuce five, that's my lady\n[02:56.64] She been with me a long time, 'bout—380\n[02:59.33] And I got that mothafuckin' nine milly, baby\n[03:02.54] Now, Felicia said, Keisha said, Alicia said\n[03:05.35] They all birds waitin' on a piece of bread (ha-ha)\n[03:08.07] We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n[03:11.36] Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential\n[03:14.24] We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n[03:17.13] Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (let's go)\n[03:20.22] This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n[03:22.91] Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up (hey)\n[03:25.81] Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n[03:29.04] Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (Mozzy, let's go)\n[03:31.90] High as funk, when you broke and niggas need a pistol\n[03:34.56] Your brother blasted outta state, and he ain't leave a pistol? (Huh?)\n[03:37.44] Feed it crystal, let it go and Run the G.F.e. (yeah)\n[03:40.29] My young life boost your door behind a PS3\n[03:43.15] Lemon juice inside the recipe, the fiends love it\n[03:45.90] We needed onions, they only funded us double ups (hey)\n[03:49.13] We was up and comin', the tweakers ain't never come to us\n[03:51.92] Three for twenty-five is the only reason they fuck with us (woo ooh)\n[03:54.71] Blue Mercedes, the gator, and now we down to run (hey)\n[03:57.78] Never take a trip with a Demon, they never gun enough (hey)\n[04:00.54] Never been the type, But the homie never had to bump me up (hey)\n[04:03.42] I love you if you dropped on the bail when the fifth cuffed me up (yeah)\n[04:05.08] Look (let's go)\n[04:06.22] West side gangsta, young rich gang banger\n[04:08.79] Got arrested, bailed out before I hit the station\n[04:11.61] (Hey) back to the spot, we wade deep on the block\n[04:14.59] We gon' fight and shoot, whether it's even or not\n[04:17.39] I'm just a Broadway baby, young Broadway gangsta\n[04:20.42] It's a drought on the real, so ain't no enemies hatin' (hey)\n[04:23.34] Truce fleece blanket, Crip blue bangin'\n[04:26.29] Quarter million-dollar car, still around the hood hangin'\n[04:29.03] Still pullin' up on haters, you don't like it then come fade me\n[04:32.02] Ballin' gettin' paper (hey) goin' crazy (oh)\n[04:35.06] See me in traffic, got that shit I be rappin'\n[04:37.82] I ain't under no pressure, that's why these niggas mad at it, it's G\n[04:40.54] This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n[04:43.72] West up, West up, West up, West up (let the Kessler speak, man)\n[04:45.92] (E-40)\n[04:46.94] Dirty deeds, cleanin' my pistol and eatin' sunflower seeds\n[04:50.71] Hella keys like a custodian, or should I say janitor (janitor)\n[04:53.48] I'm a expert at gettin' money, ho, I ain't an amateur (amateur)\n[04:56.04] Your bitch keep callin' my phone, she want me to manage her (manage her)\n[04:59.41] I told her to leave me alone, I'm off this bottle (bottle)\n[05:02.33] Not only that, but I heard she got blue waffle (blue waffle)\n[05:05.19] I wouldn't fuck that ho with your dick, fool\n[05:06.95] I'm a fixture, a factor, a ball-oholic\n[05:08.82] Whatever I want I bought it\n[05:10.28] You name it I got it\n[05:11.42] Turn it and flip in my pockets, they're talkin' the town mob\n[05:13.50] Ridin' around with a frown with my goblins\n[05:15.96] (Hold up, before we end this off)\n[05:17.63] (We gotta take it back to where it all started)\n[05:19.42] (The OG, Ice-T)\n[05:20.58] (What the fuck?) Don't ask, gray beard's black mass\n[05:23.42] Crack that safe fast, pistol-whip your bitch ass\n[05:26.41] OG, old nigga, 40 cal., Hair trigger\n[05:29.67] Fed more fuckin' fans than FEMA, diss me and I'll come to see ya\n[05:32.57] Just because you're still alive, slipped and thought the beef died\n[05:35.07] The big homie sent a gite, green light's on for life\n[05:38.04] Still on my bullshit, Black Ghost full of Crips\n[05:40.95] Want some, get some, pop off, get done\n[05:43.63] (Brra) a hundred round drum on a handgun\n[05:46.54] Pushed the line, get tacked, shots call from super max\n[05:50.01] Now you got the drama, what you gonna do?\n[05:52.51] I couldn't stop my niggas if I wanted to\n[05:55.21] This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n[05:58.25] Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\n[06:01.17] Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n[06:03.76] Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast\n[06:06.97] (You're welcome)","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Unified (feat. Nipsey Hussle, Snoop Dogg, The Game, E-40, ICE-T, Mozzy, Problem, G Perico)\n  artist: Khao\n  album: Unified (feat. Nipsey Hussle, Snoop Dogg, The Game, E-40, ICE-T, Mozzy, Problem, G Perico)\n  duration_ms: 372000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's your boy Khao, man\n  start_ms: 200\n  end_ms: 2200\n- text: West Coast\n  start_ms: 2200\n  end_ms: 3720\n- text: We here\n  start_ms: 3720\n  end_ms: 8200\n- text: Let's go (Khao)\n  start_ms: 8200\n  end_ms: 9300\n- text: This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  start_ms: 9300\n  end_ms: 12520\n- text: Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\n  start_ms: 12520\n  end_ms: 15350\n- text: Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n  start_ms: 15350\n  end_ms: 18270\n- text: Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (ay, yo, Problem)\n  start_ms: 18270\n  end_ms: 21330\n- text: The home girls crackin' cards (cards) niggas flockin'\n  start_ms: 21330\n  end_ms: 24340\n- text: Mercedes-benz hittin' corners, these bitches watchin'\n  start_ms: 24340\n  end_ms: 27060\n- text: Dirty choppers, niggas yacked up, potted up\n  start_ms: 27060\n  end_ms: 30130\n- text: Best be official, tatted tears, bullet tissue\n  start_ms: 30130\n  end_ms: 33040\n- text: Wipe that right off, made a play for like a hundred-K\n  start_ms: 33040\n  end_ms: 35790\n- text: P Jay to the Bay and fucked it right off, yea (I'm out)\n  start_ms: 35790\n  end_ms: 38830\n- text: Black Osama\n  start_ms: 38830\n  end_ms: 40030\n- text: Chach-comptown Obama\n  start_ms: 40030\n  end_ms: 41690\n- text: Red Kool-Aid, niggas lockin' with they baby mamas\n  start_ms: 41690\n  end_ms: 44450\n- text: Yea, Problem, yea, that's me, champ (on God)\n  start_ms: 44450\n  end_ms: 47360\n- text: Tequila got me bent like knee-cap (Ice) no cap\n  start_ms: 47360\n  end_ms: 50280\n- text: Mixed with Dom Pérignon with that Cognac (uh-oh)\n  start_ms: 50280\n  end_ms: 52910\n- text: Fake shit, I'on't know that, yo' new bitch my throwback\n  start_ms: 52910\n  end_ms: 55330\n- text: (Nipsey) I'm in the Forbes, and I ain't relaxin'\n  start_ms: 55330\n  end_ms: 58020\n- text: I been to war as a famous rapper (hey)\n  start_ms: 58020\n  end_ms: 60390\n- text: I made mills, then I paid my taxes\n  start_ms: 60390\n  end_ms: 62330\n- text: Then I wifed up my favorite actress\n  start_ms: 62330\n  end_ms: 64500\n- text: And post pictures on vacation with a lengthy caption\n  start_ms: 64500\n  end_ms: 67230\n- text: Couple pies, they ain't came from Gladys\n  start_ms: 67230\n  end_ms: 69610\n- text: I'm surprised I escaped the madness\n  start_ms: 69610\n  end_ms: 71590\n- text: I grew up on under Tony, Cody, they respect, they was savage\n  start_ms: 71590\n  end_ms: 75560\n- text: Can't believe I carried Fatt's casket, look\n  start_ms: 75560\n  end_ms: 78670\n- text: I'm in my feelin's, but it ain't compassion\n  start_ms: 78670\n  end_ms: 81420\n- text: Six shots, but I ain't relaxin'\n  start_ms: 81420\n  end_ms: 83350\n- text: I got mouths to feed and they expect a sandwich\n  start_ms: 83350\n  end_ms: 86050\n- text: Some were down as I respect the balance\n  start_ms: 86050\n  end_ms: 88450\n- text: This shit real, but I accept the challenge\n  start_ms: 88450\n  end_ms: 90360\n- text: We shot it out in broad day, and never checked for cameras\n  start_ms: 90360\n  end_ms: 93320\n- text: And talk reckless on these phones just to check this cabbage\n  start_ms: 93320\n  end_ms: 96260\n- text: My slum burnt, it's forever scalin'\n  start_ms: 96260\n  end_ms: 98590\n- text: We all active, how I grew up\n  start_ms: 98590\n  end_ms: 100090\n- text: Caught slippin', it was never passion (ha-ha)\n  start_ms: 100090\n  end_ms: 102060\n- text: We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  start_ms: 102060\n  end_ms: 104920\n- text: Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential\n  start_ms: 104920\n  end_ms: 107690\n- text: We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  start_ms: 107690\n  end_ms: 110780\n- text: Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (Game, let's go)\n  start_ms: 110780\n  end_ms: 113480\n- text: I got murder on my mind\n  start_ms: 113480\n  end_ms: 114800\n- text: Hollow tips on my nine\n  start_ms: 114800\n  end_ms: 116200\n- text: Chronic smoke in my eyes, but I can bust it if I'm blind\n  start_ms: 116200\n  end_ms: 119260\n- text: Bitch, I'm on one, tatted up, my baby mama trippin'\n  start_ms: 119260\n  end_ms: 122010\n- text: Got me whippin' the Benz, dippin', my trigger finger itchin'\n  start_ms: 122010\n  end_ms: 124880\n- text: Got my drawstrings pulled tight, my Chucks on Suge Knight\n  start_ms: 124880\n  end_ms: 127980\n- text: My braids on O-Dog, the homie said it's on sight\n  start_ms: 127980\n  end_ms: 131030\n- text: So, pop goes the weasel, if I see you then your body drop\n  start_ms: 131030\n  end_ms: 133660\n- text: That mouth he couldn't keep closed, that's what got him shot\n  start_ms: 133660\n  end_ms: 136860\n- text: West side the set though, niggas is to the left lost\n  start_ms: 136860\n  end_ms: 139330\n- text: My strap and Bompton—two things I never let go\n  start_ms: 139330\n  end_ms: 142200\n- text: Tell twelve, \"Fuck 'em,\" tell my mama I love her\n  start_ms: 142200\n  end_ms: 145090\n- text: She make the best potatoes and keep the fuckin' barrel smothered\n  start_ms: 145090\n  end_ms: 148280\n- text: I'm a killer, nigga (woo)\n  start_ms: 148280\n  end_ms: 149520\n- text: I'm a Steeler nigga\n  start_ms: 149520\n  end_ms: 150790\n- text: Black and gold to the pole, ring-ding-dong\n  start_ms: 150790\n  end_ms: 153670\n- text: Big King Kong\n  start_ms: 153670\n  end_ms: 155160\n- text: Knockin' out the teacher like I'm Cheech and Chong\n  start_ms: 155160\n  end_ms: 157120\n- text: As the beat goes on\n  start_ms: 157120\n  end_ms: 159090\n- text: Don't try and catch it, scratch, or match it\n  start_ms: 159090\n  end_ms: 162220\n- text: My homies layin' low under your mattress\n  start_ms: 162220\n  end_ms: 164920\n- text: Tactics of a Navy Seal, my baby real\n  start_ms: 164920\n  end_ms: 167980\n- text: She keep me up on it, you niggas don't want it\n  start_ms: 167980\n  end_ms: 171100\n- text: I been grippin' since the eighties, when the game was real shady\n  start_ms: 171100\n  end_ms: 173960\n- text: Never leave my house without my deuce five, that's my lady\n  start_ms: 173960\n  end_ms: 176640\n- text: She been with me a long time, 'bout—380\n  start_ms: 176640\n  end_ms: 179330\n- text: And I got that mothafuckin' nine milly, baby\n  start_ms: 179330\n  end_ms: 182540\n- text: Now, Felicia said, Keisha said, Alicia said\n  start_ms: 182540\n  end_ms: 185350\n- text: They all birds waitin' on a piece of bread (ha-ha)\n  start_ms: 185350\n  end_ms: 188070\n- text: We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  start_ms: 188070\n  end_ms: 191360\n- text: Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential\n  start_ms: 191360\n  end_ms: 194240\n- text: We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  start_ms: 194240\n  end_ms: 197130\n- text: Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (let's go)\n  start_ms: 197130\n  end_ms: 200220\n- text: This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  start_ms: 200220\n  end_ms: 202910\n- text: Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up (hey)\n  start_ms: 202910\n  end_ms: 205810\n- text: Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n  start_ms: 205810\n  end_ms: 209040\n- text: Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (Mozzy, let's go)\n  start_ms: 209040\n  end_ms: 211900\n- text: High as funk, when you broke and niggas need a pistol\n  start_ms: 211900\n  end_ms: 214560\n- text: Your brother blasted outta state, and he ain't leave a pistol? (Huh?)\n  start_ms: 214560\n  end_ms: 217440\n- text: Feed it crystal, let it go and Run the G.F.e. (yeah)\n  start_ms: 217440\n  end_ms: 220290\n- text: My young life boost your door behind a PS3\n  start_ms: 220290\n  end_ms: 223150\n- text: Lemon juice inside the recipe, the fiends love it\n  start_ms: 223150\n  end_ms: 225900\n- text: We needed onions, they only funded us double ups (hey)\n  start_ms: 225900\n  end_ms: 229130\n- text: We was up and comin', the tweakers ain't never come to us\n  start_ms: 229130\n  end_ms: 231920\n- text: Three for twenty-five is the only reason they fuck with us (woo ooh)\n  start_ms: 231920\n  end_ms: 234710\n- text: Blue Mercedes, the gator, and now we down to run (hey)\n  start_ms: 234710\n  end_ms: 237780\n- text: Never take a trip with a Demon, they never gun enough (hey)\n  start_ms: 237780\n  end_ms: 240540\n- text: Never been the type, But the homie never had to bump me up (hey)\n  start_ms: 240540\n  end_ms: 243420\n- text: I love you if you dropped on the bail when the fifth cuffed me up (yeah)\n  start_ms: 243420\n  end_ms: 245080\n- text: Look (let's go)\n  start_ms: 245080\n  end_ms: 246220\n- text: West side gangsta, young rich gang banger\n  start_ms: 246220\n  end_ms: 248790\n- text: Got arrested, bailed out before I hit the station\n  start_ms: 248790\n  end_ms: 251610\n- text: (Hey) back to the spot, we wade deep on the block\n  start_ms: 251610\n  end_ms: 254590\n- text: We gon' fight and shoot, whether it's even or not\n  start_ms: 254590\n  end_ms: 257390\n- text: I'm just a Broadway baby, young Broadway gangsta\n  start_ms: 257390\n  end_ms: 260420\n- text: It's a drought on the real, so ain't no enemies hatin' (hey)\n  start_ms: 260420\n  end_ms: 263340\n- text: Truce fleece blanket, Crip blue bangin'\n  start_ms: 263340\n  end_ms: 266290\n- text: Quarter million-dollar car, still around the hood hangin'\n  start_ms: 266290\n  end_ms: 269030\n- text: Still pullin' up on haters, you don't like it then come fade me\n  start_ms: 269030\n  end_ms: 272020\n- text: Ballin' gettin' paper (hey) goin' crazy (oh)\n  start_ms: 272020\n  end_ms: 275060\n- text: See me in traffic, got that shit I be rappin'\n  start_ms: 275060\n  end_ms: 277820\n- text: I ain't under no pressure, that's why these niggas mad at it, it's G\n  start_ms: 277820\n  end_ms: 280540\n- text: This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  start_ms: 280540\n  end_ms: 283720\n- text: West up, West up, West up, West up (let the Kessler speak, man)\n  start_ms: 283720\n  end_ms: 285920\n- text: (E-40)\n  start_ms: 285920\n  end_ms: 286940\n- text: Dirty deeds, cleanin' my pistol and eatin' sunflower seeds\n  start_ms: 286940\n  end_ms: 290710\n- text: Hella keys like a custodian, or should I say janitor (janitor)\n  start_ms: 290710\n  end_ms: 293480\n- text: I'm a expert at gettin' money, ho, I ain't an amateur (amateur)\n  start_ms: 293480\n  end_ms: 296040\n- text: Your bitch keep callin' my phone, she want me to manage her (manage her)\n  start_ms: 296040\n  end_ms: 299410\n- text: I told her to leave me alone, I'm off this bottle (bottle)\n  start_ms: 299410\n  end_ms: 302330\n- text: Not only that, but I heard she got blue waffle (blue waffle)\n  start_ms: 302330\n  end_ms: 305190\n- text: I wouldn't fuck that ho with your dick, fool\n  start_ms: 305190\n  end_ms: 306950\n- text: I'm a fixture, a factor, a ball-oholic\n  start_ms: 306950\n  end_ms: 308820\n- text: Whatever I want I bought it\n  start_ms: 308820\n  end_ms: 310280\n- text: You name it I got it\n  start_ms: 310280\n  end_ms: 311420\n- text: Turn it and flip in my pockets, they're talkin' the town mob\n  start_ms: 311420\n  end_ms: 313500\n- text: Ridin' around with a frown with my goblins\n  start_ms: 313500\n  end_ms: 315960\n- text: (Hold up, before we end this off)\n  start_ms: 315960\n  end_ms: 317630\n- text: (We gotta take it back to where it all started)\n  start_ms: 317630\n  end_ms: 319420\n- text: (The OG, Ice-T)\n  start_ms: 319420\n  end_ms: 320580\n- text: (What the fuck?) Don't ask, gray beard's black mass\n  start_ms: 320580\n  end_ms: 323420\n- text: Crack that safe fast, pistol-whip your bitch ass\n  start_ms: 323420\n  end_ms: 326410\n- text: OG, old nigga, 40 cal., Hair trigger\n  start_ms: 326410\n  end_ms: 329670\n- text: Fed more fuckin' fans than FEMA, diss me and I'll come to see ya\n  start_ms: 329670\n  end_ms: 332570\n- text: Just because you're still alive, slipped and thought the beef died\n  start_ms: 332570\n  end_ms: 335070\n- text: The big homie sent a gite, green light's on for life\n  start_ms: 335070\n  end_ms: 338040\n- text: Still on my bullshit, Black Ghost full of Crips\n  start_ms: 338040\n  end_ms: 340950\n- text: Want some, get some, pop off, get done\n  start_ms: 340950\n  end_ms: 343630\n- text: (Brra) a hundred round drum on a handgun\n  start_ms: 343630\n  end_ms: 346540\n- text: Pushed the line, get tacked, shots call from super max\n  start_ms: 346540\n  end_ms: 350010\n- text: Now you got the drama, what you gonna do?\n  start_ms: 350010\n  end_ms: 352510\n- text: I couldn't stop my niggas if I wanted to\n  start_ms: 352510\n  end_ms: 355210\n- text: This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  start_ms: 355210\n  end_ms: 358250\n- text: Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\n  start_ms: 358250\n  end_ms: 361170\n- text: Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n  start_ms: 361170\n  end_ms: 363760\n- text: Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast\n  start_ms: 363760\n  end_ms: 366970\n- text: (You're welcome)\n  start_ms: 366970\nplain: |-\n  It's your boy Khao, man\n  West Coast\n  We here\n  Let's go (Khao)\n  This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\n  Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n  Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (ay, yo, Problem)\n  The home girls crackin' cards (cards) niggas flockin'\n  Mercedes-benz hittin' corners, these bitches watchin'\n  Dirty choppers, niggas yacked up, potted up\n  Best be official, tatted tears, bullet tissue\n  Wipe that right off, made a play for like a hundred-K\n  P Jay to the Bay and fucked it right off, yea (I'm out)\n  Black Osama\n  Chach-comptown Obama\n  Red Kool-Aid, niggas lockin' with they baby mamas\n  Yea, Problem, yea, that's me, champ (on God)\n  Tequila got me bent like knee-cap (Ice) no cap\n  Mixed with Dom Pérignon with that Cognac (uh-oh)\n  Fake shit, I'on't know that, yo' new bitch my throwback\n  (Nipsey) I'm in the Forbes, and I ain't relaxin'\n  I been to war as a famous rapper (hey)\n  I made mills, then I paid my taxes\n  Then I wifed up my favorite actress\n  And post pictures on vacation with a lengthy caption\n  Couple pies, they ain't came from Gladys\n  I'm surprised I escaped the madness\n  I grew up on under Tony, Cody, they respect, they was savage\n  Can't believe I carried Fatt's casket, look\n  I'm in my feelin's, but it ain't compassion\n  Six shots, but I ain't relaxin'\n  I got mouths to feed and they expect a sandwich\n  Some were down as I respect the balance\n  This shit real, but I accept the challenge\n  We shot it out in broad day, and never checked for cameras\n  And talk reckless on these phones just to check this cabbage\n  My slum burnt, it's forever scalin'\n  We all active, how I grew up\n  Caught slippin', it was never passion (ha-ha)\n  We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential\n  We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (Game, let's go)\n  I got murder on my mind\n  Hollow tips on my nine\n  Chronic smoke in my eyes, but I can bust it if I'm blind\n  Bitch, I'm on one, tatted up, my baby mama trippin'\n  Got me whippin' the Benz, dippin', my trigger finger itchin'\n  Got my drawstrings pulled tight, my Chucks on Suge Knight\n  My braids on O-Dog, the homie said it's on sight\n  So, pop goes the weasel, if I see you then your body drop\n  That mouth he couldn't keep closed, that's what got him shot\n  West side the set though, niggas is to the left lost\n  My strap and Bompton—two things I never let go\n  Tell twelve, \"Fuck 'em,\" tell my mama I love her\n  She make the best potatoes and keep the fuckin' barrel smothered\n  I'm a killer, nigga (woo)\n  I'm a Steeler nigga\n  Black and gold to the pole, ring-ding-dong\n  Big King Kong\n  Knockin' out the teacher like I'm Cheech and Chong\n  As the beat goes on\n  Don't try and catch it, scratch, or match it\n  My homies layin' low under your mattress\n  Tactics of a Navy Seal, my baby real\n  She keep me up on it, you niggas don't want it\n  I been grippin' since the eighties, when the game was real shady\n  Never leave my house without my deuce five, that's my lady\n  She been with me a long time, 'bout—380\n  And I got that mothafuckin' nine milly, baby\n  Now, Felicia said, Keisha said, Alicia said\n  They all birds waitin' on a piece of bread (ha-ha)\n  We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential\n  We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (let's go)\n  This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up (hey)\n  Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n  Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (Mozzy, let's go)\n  High as funk, when you broke and niggas need a pistol\n  Your brother blasted outta state, and he ain't leave a pistol? (Huh?)\n  Feed it crystal, let it go and Run the G.F.e. (yeah)\n  My young life boost your door behind a PS3\n  Lemon juice inside the recipe, the fiends love it\n  We needed onions, they only funded us double ups (hey)\n  We was up and comin', the tweakers ain't never come to us\n  Three for twenty-five is the only reason they fuck with us (woo ooh)\n  Blue Mercedes, the gator, and now we down to run (hey)\n  Never take a trip with a Demon, they never gun enough (hey)\n  Never been the type, But the homie never had to bump me up (hey)\n  I love you if you dropped on the bail when the fifth cuffed me up (yeah)\n  Look (let's go)\n  West side gangsta, young rich gang banger\n  Got arrested, bailed out before I hit the station\n  (Hey) back to the spot, we wade deep on the block\n  We gon' fight and shoot, whether it's even or not\n  I'm just a Broadway baby, young Broadway gangsta\n  It's a drought on the real, so ain't no enemies hatin' (hey)\n  Truce fleece blanket, Crip blue bangin'\n  Quarter million-dollar car, still around the hood hangin'\n  Still pullin' up on haters, you don't like it then come fade me\n  Ballin' gettin' paper (hey) goin' crazy (oh)\n  See me in traffic, got that shit I be rappin'\n  I ain't under no pressure, that's why these niggas mad at it, it's G\n  This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  West up, West up, West up, West up (let the Kessler speak, man)\n  (E-40)\n  Dirty deeds, cleanin' my pistol and eatin' sunflower seeds\n  Hella keys like a custodian, or should I say janitor (janitor)\n  I'm a expert at gettin' money, ho, I ain't an amateur (amateur)\n  Your bitch keep callin' my phone, she want me to manage her (manage her)\n  I told her to leave me alone, I'm off this bottle (bottle)\n  Not only that, but I heard she got blue waffle (blue waffle)\n  I wouldn't fuck that ho with your dick, fool\n  I'm a fixture, a factor, a ball-oholic\n  Whatever I want I bought it\n  You name it I got it\n  Turn it and flip in my pockets, they're talkin' the town mob\n  Ridin' around with a frown with my goblins\n  (Hold up, before we end this off)\n  (We gotta take it back to where it all started)\n  (The OG, Ice-T)\n  (What the fuck?) Don't ask, gray beard's black mass\n  Crack that safe fast, pistol-whip your bitch ass\n  OG, old nigga, 40 cal., Hair trigger\n  Fed more fuckin' fans than FEMA, diss me and I'll come to see ya\n  Just because you're still alive, slipped and thought the beef died\n  The big homie sent a gite, green light's on for life\n  Still on my bullshit, Black Ghost full of Crips\n  Want some, get some, pop off, get done\n  (Brra) a hundred round drum on a handgun\n  Pushed the line, get tacked, shots call from super max\n  Now you got the drama, what you gonna do?\n  I couldn't stop my niggas if I wanted to\n  This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\n  Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n  Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast\n  (You're welcome)\n"},{"id":30055767,"name":"Unified (feat. Nipsey Hussle, Snoop Dogg, The Game, E-40, ICE-T, Mozzy, Problem, G Perico)","trackName":"Unified (feat. Nipsey Hussle, Snoop Dogg, The Game, E-40, ICE-T, Mozzy, Problem, G Perico)","artistName":"Khao","albumName":"Unified (feat. Nipsey Hussle, Snoop Dogg, The Game, E-40, ICE-T, Mozzy, Problem, G Perico) - Single","duration":371.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's your boy Khao, man\nWest Coast\nWe here\nLet's go (Khao)\nThis that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\nBlack, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\nGettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\nUnified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (ay, yo, Problem)\nThe home girls crackin' cards (cards) niggas flockin'\nMercedes-benz hittin' corners, these bitches watchin'\nDirty choppers, niggas yacked up, potted up\nBest be official, tatted tears, bullet tissue\nWipe that right off, made a play for like a hundred-K\nP Jay to the Bay and fucked it right off, yea (I'm out)\nBlack Osama\nChach-comptown Obama\nRed Kool-Aid, niggas lockin' with they baby mamas\nYea, Problem, yea, that's me, champ (on God)\nTequila got me bent like knee-cap (Ice) no cap\nMixed with Dom Pérignon with that Cognac (uh-oh)\nFake shit, I'on't know that, yo' new bitch my throwback\n(Nipsey) I'm in the Forbes, and I ain't relaxin'\nI been to war as a famous rapper (hey)\nI made mills, then I paid my taxes\nThen I wifed up my favorite actress\nAnd post pictures on vacation with a lengthy caption\nCouple pies, they ain't came from Gladys\nI'm surprised I escaped the madness\nI grew up on under Tony, Cody, they respect, they was savage\nCan't believe I carried Fatt's casket, look\nI'm in my feelin's, but it ain't compassion\nSix shots, but I ain't relaxin'\nI got mouths to feed and they expect a sandwich\nSome were down as I respect the balance\nThis shit real, but I accept the challenge\nWe shot it out in broad day, and never checked for cameras\nAnd talk reckless on these phones just to check this cabbage\nMy slum burnt, it's forever scalin'\nWe all active, how I grew up\nCaught slippin', it was never passion (ha-ha)\nWe official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\nStreet credentials, automatic street sweep potential\nWe official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\nStreet credentials, automatic street sweep potential (Game, let's go)\nI got murder on my mind\nHollow tips on my nine\nChronic smoke in my eyes, but I can bust it if I'm blind\nBitch, I'm on one, tatted up, my baby mama trippin'\nGot me whippin' the Benz, dippin', my trigger finger itchin'\nGot my drawstrings pulled tight, my Chucks on Suge Knight\nMy braids on O-Dog, the homie said it's on sight\nSo, pop goes the weasel, if I see you then your body drop\nThat mouth he couldn't keep closed, that's what got him shot\nWest side the set though, niggas is to the left lost\nMy strap and Bompton—two things I never let go\nTell twelve, \"Fuck 'em,\" tell my mama I love her\nShe make the best potatoes and keep the fuckin' barrel smothered\nI'm a killer, nigga (woo)\nI'm a Steeler nigga\nBlack and gold to the pole, ring-ding-dong\nBig King Kong\nKnockin' out the teacher like I'm Cheech and Chong\nAs the beat goes on\nDon't try and catch it, scratch, or match it\nMy homies layin' low under your mattress\nTactics of a Navy Seal, my baby real\nShe keep me up on it, you niggas don't want it\nI been grippin' since the eighties, when the game was real shady\nNever leave my house without my deuce five, that's my lady\nShe been with me a long time, 'bout—380\nAnd I got that mothafuckin' nine milly, baby\nNow, Felicia said, Keisha said, Alicia said\nThey all birds waitin' on a piece of bread (ha-ha)\nWe official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\nStreet credentials, automatic street sweep potential\nWe official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\nStreet credentials, automatic street sweep potential (let's go)\nThis that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\nBlack, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up (hey)\nGettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\nUnified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (Mozzy, let's go)\nHigh as funk, when you broke and niggas need a pistol\nYour brother blasted outta state, and he ain't leave a pistol? (Huh?)\nFeed it crystal, let it go and Run the G.F.e. (yeah)\nMy young life boost your door behind a PS3\nLemon juice inside the recipe, the fiends love it\nWe needed onions, they only funded us double ups (hey)\nWe was up and comin', the tweakers ain't never come to us\nThree for twenty-five is the only reason they fuck with us (woo ooh)\nBlue Mercedes, the gator, and now we down to run (hey)\nNever take a trip with a Demon, they never gun enough (hey)\nNever been the type, But the homie never had to bump me up (hey)\nI love you if you dropped on the bail when the fifth cuffed me up (yeah)\nLook (let's go)\nWest side gangsta, young rich gang banger\nGot arrested, bailed out before I hit the station\n(Hey) back to the spot, we wade deep on the block\nWe gon' fight and shoot, whether it's even or not\nI'm just a Broadway baby, young Broadway gangsta\nIt's a drought on the real, so ain't no enemies hatin' (hey)\nTruce fleece blanket, Crip blue bangin'\nQuarter million-dollar car, still around the hood hangin'\nStill pullin' up on haters, you don't like it then come fade me\nBallin' gettin' paper (hey) goin' crazy (oh)\nSee me in traffic, got that shit I be rappin'\nI ain't under no pressure, that's why these niggas mad at it, it's G\nThis that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\nWest up, West up, West up, West up (let the Kessler speak, man)\n(E-40)\nDirty deeds, cleanin' my pistol and eatin' sunflower seeds\nHella keys like a custodian, or should I say janitor (janitor)\nI'm a expert at gettin' money, ho, I ain't an amateur (amateur)\nYour bitch keep callin' my phone, she want me to manage her (manage her)\nI told her to leave me alone, I'm off this bottle (bottle)\nNot only that, but I heard she got blue waffle (blue waffle)\nI wouldn't fuck that ho with your dick, fool\nI'm a fixture, a factor, a ball-oholic\nWhatever I want I bought it\nYou name it I got it\nTurn it and flip in my pockets, they're talkin' the town mob\nRidin' around with a frown with my goblins\n(Hold up, before we end this off)\n(We gotta take it back to where it all started)\n(The OG, Ice-T)\n(What the fuck?) Don't ask, gray beard's black mass\nCrack that safe fast, pistol-whip your bitch ass\nOG, old nigga, 40 cal., Hair trigger\nFed more fuckin' fans than FEMA, diss me and I'll come to see ya\nJust because you're still alive, slipped and thought the beef died\nThe big homie sent a gite, green light's on for life\nStill on my bullshit, Black Ghost full of Crips\nWant some, get some, pop off, get done\n(Brra) a hundred round drum on a handgun\nPushed the line, get tacked, shots call from super max\nNow you got the drama, what you gonna do?\nI couldn't stop my niggas if I wanted to\nThis that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\nBlack, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\nGettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\nUnified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast\n(You're welcome)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.20] It's your boy Khao, man\n[00:02.20] West Coast\n[00:03.72] We here\n[00:08.20] Let's go (Khao)\n[00:09.30] This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n[00:12.52] Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\n[00:15.35] Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n[00:18.27] Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (ay, yo, Problem)\n[00:21.33] The home girls crackin' cards (cards) niggas flockin'\n[00:24.34] Mercedes-benz hittin' corners, these bitches watchin'\n[00:27.06] Dirty choppers, niggas yacked up, potted up\n[00:30.13] Best be official, tatted tears, bullet tissue\n[00:33.04] Wipe that right off, made a play for like a hundred-K\n[00:35.79] P Jay to the Bay and fucked it right off, yea (I'm out)\n[00:38.83] Black Osama\n[00:40.03] Chach-comptown Obama\n[00:41.69] Red Kool-Aid, niggas lockin' with they baby mamas\n[00:44.45] Yea, Problem, yea, that's me, champ (on God)\n[00:47.36] Tequila got me bent like knee-cap (Ice) no cap\n[00:50.28] Mixed with Dom Pérignon with that Cognac (uh-oh)\n[00:52.91] Fake shit, I'on't know that, yo' new bitch my throwback\n[00:55.33] (Nipsey) I'm in the Forbes, and I ain't relaxin'\n[00:58.02] I been to war as a famous rapper (hey)\n[01:00.39] I made mills, then I paid my taxes\n[01:02.33] Then I wifed up my favorite actress\n[01:04.50] And post pictures on vacation with a lengthy caption\n[01:07.23] Couple pies, they ain't came from Gladys\n[01:09.61] I'm surprised I escaped the madness\n[01:11.59] I grew up on under Tony, Cody, they respect, they was savage\n[01:15.56] Can't believe I carried Fatt's casket, look\n[01:18.67] I'm in my feelin's, but it ain't compassion\n[01:21.42] Six shots, but I ain't relaxin'\n[01:23.35] I got mouths to feed and they expect a sandwich\n[01:26.05] Some were down as I respect the balance\n[01:28.45] This shit real, but I accept the challenge\n[01:30.36] We shot it out in broad day, and never checked for cameras\n[01:33.32] And talk reckless on these phones just to check this cabbage\n[01:36.26] My slum burnt, it's forever scalin'\n[01:38.59] We all active, how I grew up\n[01:40.09] Caught slippin', it was never passion (ha-ha)\n[01:42.06] We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n[01:44.92] Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential\n[01:47.69] We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n[01:50.78] Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (Game, let's go)\n[01:53.48] I got murder on my mind\n[01:54.80] Hollow tips on my nine\n[01:56.20] Chronic smoke in my eyes, but I can bust it if I'm blind\n[01:59.26] Bitch, I'm on one, tatted up, my baby mama trippin'\n[02:02.01] Got me whippin' the Benz, dippin', my trigger finger itchin'\n[02:04.88] Got my drawstrings pulled tight, my Chucks on Suge Knight\n[02:07.98] My braids on O-Dog, the homie said it's on sight\n[02:11.03] So, pop goes the weasel, if I see you then your body drop\n[02:13.66] That mouth he couldn't keep closed, that's what got him shot\n[02:16.86] West side the set though, niggas is to the left lost\n[02:19.33] My strap and Bompton—two things I never let go\n[02:22.20] Tell twelve, \"Fuck 'em,\" tell my mama I love her\n[02:25.09] She make the best potatoes and keep the fuckin' barrel smothered\n[02:28.28] I'm a killer, nigga (woo)\n[02:29.52] I'm a Steeler nigga\n[02:30.79] Black and gold to the pole, ring-ding-dong\n[02:33.67] Big King Kong\n[02:35.16] Knockin' out the teacher like I'm Cheech and Chong\n[02:37.12] As the beat goes on\n[02:39.09] Don't try and catch it, scratch, or match it\n[02:42.22] My homies layin' low under your mattress\n[02:44.92] Tactics of a Navy Seal, my baby real\n[02:47.98] She keep me up on it, you niggas don't want it\n[02:51.10] I been grippin' since the eighties, when the game was real shady\n[02:53.96] Never leave my house without my deuce five, that's my lady\n[02:56.64] She been with me a long time, 'bout—380\n[02:59.33] And I got that mothafuckin' nine milly, baby\n[03:02.54] Now, Felicia said, Keisha said, Alicia said\n[03:05.35] They all birds waitin' on a piece of bread (ha-ha)\n[03:08.07] We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n[03:11.36] Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential\n[03:14.24] We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n[03:17.13] Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (let's go)\n[03:20.22] This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n[03:22.91] Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up (hey)\n[03:25.81] Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n[03:29.04] Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (Mozzy, let's go)\n[03:31.90] High as funk, when you broke and niggas need a pistol\n[03:34.56] Your brother blasted outta state, and he ain't leave a pistol? (Huh?)\n[03:37.44] Feed it crystal, let it go and Run the G.F.e. (yeah)\n[03:40.29] My young life boost your door behind a PS3\n[03:43.15] Lemon juice inside the recipe, the fiends love it\n[03:45.90] We needed onions, they only funded us double ups (hey)\n[03:49.13] We was up and comin', the tweakers ain't never come to us\n[03:51.92] Three for twenty-five is the only reason they fuck with us (woo ooh)\n[03:54.71] Blue Mercedes, the gator, and now we down to run (hey)\n[03:57.78] Never take a trip with a Demon, they never gun enough (hey)\n[04:00.54] Never been the type, But the homie never had to bump me up (hey)\n[04:03.42] I love you if you dropped on the bail when the fifth cuffed me up (yeah)\n[04:05.08] Look (let's go)\n[04:06.22] West side gangsta, young rich gang banger\n[04:08.79] Got arrested, bailed out before I hit the station\n[04:11.61] (Hey) back to the spot, we wade deep on the block\n[04:14.59] We gon' fight and shoot, whether it's even or not\n[04:17.39] I'm just a Broadway baby, young Broadway gangsta\n[04:20.42] It's a drought on the real, so ain't no enemies hatin' (hey)\n[04:23.34] Truce fleece blanket, Crip blue bangin'\n[04:26.29] Quarter million-dollar car, still around the hood hangin'\n[04:29.03] Still pullin' up on haters, you don't like it then come fade me\n[04:32.02] Ballin' gettin' paper (hey) goin' crazy (oh)\n[04:35.06] See me in traffic, got that shit I be rappin'\n[04:37.82] I ain't under no pressure, that's why these niggas mad at it, it's G\n[04:40.54] This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n[04:43.72] West up, West up, West up, West up (let the Kessler speak, man)\n[04:45.92] (E-40)\n[04:46.94] Dirty deeds, cleanin' my pistol and eatin' sunflower seeds\n[04:50.71] Hella keys like a custodian, or should I say janitor (janitor)\n[04:53.48] I'm a expert at gettin' money, ho, I ain't an amateur (amateur)\n[04:56.04] Your bitch keep callin' my phone, she want me to manage her (manage her)\n[04:59.41] I told her to leave me alone, I'm off this bottle (bottle)\n[05:02.33] Not only that, but I heard she got blue waffle (blue waffle)\n[05:05.19] I wouldn't fuck that ho with your dick, fool\n[05:06.95] I'm a fixture, a factor, a ball-oholic\n[05:08.82] Whatever I want I bought it\n[05:10.28] You name it I got it\n[05:11.42] Turn it and flip in my pockets, they're talkin' the town mob\n[05:13.50] Ridin' around with a frown with my goblins\n[05:15.96] (Hold up, before we end this off)\n[05:17.63] (We gotta take it back to where it all started)\n[05:19.42] (The OG, Ice-T)\n[05:20.58] (What the fuck?) Don't ask, gray beard's black mass\n[05:23.42] Crack that safe fast, pistol-whip your bitch ass\n[05:26.41] OG, old nigga, 40 cal., Hair trigger\n[05:29.67] Fed more fuckin' fans than FEMA, diss me and I'll come to see ya\n[05:32.57] Just because you're still alive, slipped and thought the beef died\n[05:35.07] The big homie sent a gite, green light's on for life\n[05:38.04] Still on my bullshit, Black Ghost full of Crips\n[05:40.95] Want some, get some, pop off, get done\n[05:43.63] (Brra) a hundred round drum on a handgun\n[05:46.54] Pushed the line, get tacked, shots call from super max\n[05:50.01] Now you got the drama, what you gonna do?\n[05:52.51] I couldn't stop my niggas if I wanted to\n[05:55.21] This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n[05:58.25] Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\n[06:01.17] Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n[06:03.76] Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast\n[06:06.97] (You're welcome)","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Unified (feat. Nipsey Hussle, Snoop Dogg, The Game, E-40, ICE-T, Mozzy, Problem, G Perico)\n  artist: Khao\n  album: Unified (feat. Nipsey Hussle, Snoop Dogg, The Game, E-40, ICE-T, Mozzy, Problem, G Perico) - Single\n  duration_ms: 371000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's your boy Khao, man\n  start_ms: 200\n  end_ms: 2200\n- text: West Coast\n  start_ms: 2200\n  end_ms: 3720\n- text: We here\n  start_ms: 3720\n  end_ms: 8200\n- text: Let's go (Khao)\n  start_ms: 8200\n  end_ms: 9300\n- text: This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  start_ms: 9300\n  end_ms: 12520\n- text: Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\n  start_ms: 12520\n  end_ms: 15350\n- text: Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n  start_ms: 15350\n  end_ms: 18270\n- text: Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (ay, yo, Problem)\n  start_ms: 18270\n  end_ms: 21330\n- text: The home girls crackin' cards (cards) niggas flockin'\n  start_ms: 21330\n  end_ms: 24340\n- text: Mercedes-benz hittin' corners, these bitches watchin'\n  start_ms: 24340\n  end_ms: 27060\n- text: Dirty choppers, niggas yacked up, potted up\n  start_ms: 27060\n  end_ms: 30130\n- text: Best be official, tatted tears, bullet tissue\n  start_ms: 30130\n  end_ms: 33040\n- text: Wipe that right off, made a play for like a hundred-K\n  start_ms: 33040\n  end_ms: 35790\n- text: P Jay to the Bay and fucked it right off, yea (I'm out)\n  start_ms: 35790\n  end_ms: 38830\n- text: Black Osama\n  start_ms: 38830\n  end_ms: 40030\n- text: Chach-comptown Obama\n  start_ms: 40030\n  end_ms: 41690\n- text: Red Kool-Aid, niggas lockin' with they baby mamas\n  start_ms: 41690\n  end_ms: 44450\n- text: Yea, Problem, yea, that's me, champ (on God)\n  start_ms: 44450\n  end_ms: 47360\n- text: Tequila got me bent like knee-cap (Ice) no cap\n  start_ms: 47360\n  end_ms: 50280\n- text: Mixed with Dom Pérignon with that Cognac (uh-oh)\n  start_ms: 50280\n  end_ms: 52910\n- text: Fake shit, I'on't know that, yo' new bitch my throwback\n  start_ms: 52910\n  end_ms: 55330\n- text: (Nipsey) I'm in the Forbes, and I ain't relaxin'\n  start_ms: 55330\n  end_ms: 58020\n- text: I been to war as a famous rapper (hey)\n  start_ms: 58020\n  end_ms: 60390\n- text: I made mills, then I paid my taxes\n  start_ms: 60390\n  end_ms: 62330\n- text: Then I wifed up my favorite actress\n  start_ms: 62330\n  end_ms: 64500\n- text: And post pictures on vacation with a lengthy caption\n  start_ms: 64500\n  end_ms: 67230\n- text: Couple pies, they ain't came from Gladys\n  start_ms: 67230\n  end_ms: 69610\n- text: I'm surprised I escaped the madness\n  start_ms: 69610\n  end_ms: 71590\n- text: I grew up on under Tony, Cody, they respect, they was savage\n  start_ms: 71590\n  end_ms: 75560\n- text: Can't believe I carried Fatt's casket, look\n  start_ms: 75560\n  end_ms: 78670\n- text: I'm in my feelin's, but it ain't compassion\n  start_ms: 78670\n  end_ms: 81420\n- text: Six shots, but I ain't relaxin'\n  start_ms: 81420\n  end_ms: 83350\n- text: I got mouths to feed and they expect a sandwich\n  start_ms: 83350\n  end_ms: 86050\n- text: Some were down as I respect the balance\n  start_ms: 86050\n  end_ms: 88450\n- text: This shit real, but I accept the challenge\n  start_ms: 88450\n  end_ms: 90360\n- text: We shot it out in broad day, and never checked for cameras\n  start_ms: 90360\n  end_ms: 93320\n- text: And talk reckless on these phones just to check this cabbage\n  start_ms: 93320\n  end_ms: 96260\n- text: My slum burnt, it's forever scalin'\n  start_ms: 96260\n  end_ms: 98590\n- text: We all active, how I grew up\n  start_ms: 98590\n  end_ms: 100090\n- text: Caught slippin', it was never passion (ha-ha)\n  start_ms: 100090\n  end_ms: 102060\n- text: We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  start_ms: 102060\n  end_ms: 104920\n- text: Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential\n  start_ms: 104920\n  end_ms: 107690\n- text: We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  start_ms: 107690\n  end_ms: 110780\n- text: Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (Game, let's go)\n  start_ms: 110780\n  end_ms: 113480\n- text: I got murder on my mind\n  start_ms: 113480\n  end_ms: 114800\n- text: Hollow tips on my nine\n  start_ms: 114800\n  end_ms: 116200\n- text: Chronic smoke in my eyes, but I can bust it if I'm blind\n  start_ms: 116200\n  end_ms: 119260\n- text: Bitch, I'm on one, tatted up, my baby mama trippin'\n  start_ms: 119260\n  end_ms: 122010\n- text: Got me whippin' the Benz, dippin', my trigger finger itchin'\n  start_ms: 122010\n  end_ms: 124880\n- text: Got my drawstrings pulled tight, my Chucks on Suge Knight\n  start_ms: 124880\n  end_ms: 127980\n- text: My braids on O-Dog, the homie said it's on sight\n  start_ms: 127980\n  end_ms: 131030\n- text: So, pop goes the weasel, if I see you then your body drop\n  start_ms: 131030\n  end_ms: 133660\n- text: That mouth he couldn't keep closed, that's what got him shot\n  start_ms: 133660\n  end_ms: 136860\n- text: West side the set though, niggas is to the left lost\n  start_ms: 136860\n  end_ms: 139330\n- text: My strap and Bompton—two things I never let go\n  start_ms: 139330\n  end_ms: 142200\n- text: Tell twelve, \"Fuck 'em,\" tell my mama I love her\n  start_ms: 142200\n  end_ms: 145090\n- text: She make the best potatoes and keep the fuckin' barrel smothered\n  start_ms: 145090\n  end_ms: 148280\n- text: I'm a killer, nigga (woo)\n  start_ms: 148280\n  end_ms: 149520\n- text: I'm a Steeler nigga\n  start_ms: 149520\n  end_ms: 150790\n- text: Black and gold to the pole, ring-ding-dong\n  start_ms: 150790\n  end_ms: 153670\n- text: Big King Kong\n  start_ms: 153670\n  end_ms: 155160\n- text: Knockin' out the teacher like I'm Cheech and Chong\n  start_ms: 155160\n  end_ms: 157120\n- text: As the beat goes on\n  start_ms: 157120\n  end_ms: 159090\n- text: Don't try and catch it, scratch, or match it\n  start_ms: 159090\n  end_ms: 162220\n- text: My homies layin' low under your mattress\n  start_ms: 162220\n  end_ms: 164920\n- text: Tactics of a Navy Seal, my baby real\n  start_ms: 164920\n  end_ms: 167980\n- text: She keep me up on it, you niggas don't want it\n  start_ms: 167980\n  end_ms: 171100\n- text: I been grippin' since the eighties, when the game was real shady\n  start_ms: 171100\n  end_ms: 173960\n- text: Never leave my house without my deuce five, that's my lady\n  start_ms: 173960\n  end_ms: 176640\n- text: She been with me a long time, 'bout—380\n  start_ms: 176640\n  end_ms: 179330\n- text: And I got that mothafuckin' nine milly, baby\n  start_ms: 179330\n  end_ms: 182540\n- text: Now, Felicia said, Keisha said, Alicia said\n  start_ms: 182540\n  end_ms: 185350\n- text: They all birds waitin' on a piece of bread (ha-ha)\n  start_ms: 185350\n  end_ms: 188070\n- text: We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  start_ms: 188070\n  end_ms: 191360\n- text: Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential\n  start_ms: 191360\n  end_ms: 194240\n- text: We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  start_ms: 194240\n  end_ms: 197130\n- text: Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (let's go)\n  start_ms: 197130\n  end_ms: 200220\n- text: This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  start_ms: 200220\n  end_ms: 202910\n- text: Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up (hey)\n  start_ms: 202910\n  end_ms: 205810\n- text: Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n  start_ms: 205810\n  end_ms: 209040\n- text: Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (Mozzy, let's go)\n  start_ms: 209040\n  end_ms: 211900\n- text: High as funk, when you broke and niggas need a pistol\n  start_ms: 211900\n  end_ms: 214560\n- text: Your brother blasted outta state, and he ain't leave a pistol? (Huh?)\n  start_ms: 214560\n  end_ms: 217440\n- text: Feed it crystal, let it go and Run the G.F.e. (yeah)\n  start_ms: 217440\n  end_ms: 220290\n- text: My young life boost your door behind a PS3\n  start_ms: 220290\n  end_ms: 223150\n- text: Lemon juice inside the recipe, the fiends love it\n  start_ms: 223150\n  end_ms: 225900\n- text: We needed onions, they only funded us double ups (hey)\n  start_ms: 225900\n  end_ms: 229130\n- text: We was up and comin', the tweakers ain't never come to us\n  start_ms: 229130\n  end_ms: 231920\n- text: Three for twenty-five is the only reason they fuck with us (woo ooh)\n  start_ms: 231920\n  end_ms: 234710\n- text: Blue Mercedes, the gator, and now we down to run (hey)\n  start_ms: 234710\n  end_ms: 237780\n- text: Never take a trip with a Demon, they never gun enough (hey)\n  start_ms: 237780\n  end_ms: 240540\n- text: Never been the type, But the homie never had to bump me up (hey)\n  start_ms: 240540\n  end_ms: 243420\n- text: I love you if you dropped on the bail when the fifth cuffed me up (yeah)\n  start_ms: 243420\n  end_ms: 245080\n- text: Look (let's go)\n  start_ms: 245080\n  end_ms: 246220\n- text: West side gangsta, young rich gang banger\n  start_ms: 246220\n  end_ms: 248790\n- text: Got arrested, bailed out before I hit the station\n  start_ms: 248790\n  end_ms: 251610\n- text: (Hey) back to the spot, we wade deep on the block\n  start_ms: 251610\n  end_ms: 254590\n- text: We gon' fight and shoot, whether it's even or not\n  start_ms: 254590\n  end_ms: 257390\n- text: I'm just a Broadway baby, young Broadway gangsta\n  start_ms: 257390\n  end_ms: 260420\n- text: It's a drought on the real, so ain't no enemies hatin' (hey)\n  start_ms: 260420\n  end_ms: 263340\n- text: Truce fleece blanket, Crip blue bangin'\n  start_ms: 263340\n  end_ms: 266290\n- text: Quarter million-dollar car, still around the hood hangin'\n  start_ms: 266290\n  end_ms: 269030\n- text: Still pullin' up on haters, you don't like it then come fade me\n  start_ms: 269030\n  end_ms: 272020\n- text: Ballin' gettin' paper (hey) goin' crazy (oh)\n  start_ms: 272020\n  end_ms: 275060\n- text: See me in traffic, got that shit I be rappin'\n  start_ms: 275060\n  end_ms: 277820\n- text: I ain't under no pressure, that's why these niggas mad at it, it's G\n  start_ms: 277820\n  end_ms: 280540\n- text: This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  start_ms: 280540\n  end_ms: 283720\n- text: West up, West up, West up, West up (let the Kessler speak, man)\n  start_ms: 283720\n  end_ms: 285920\n- text: (E-40)\n  start_ms: 285920\n  end_ms: 286940\n- text: Dirty deeds, cleanin' my pistol and eatin' sunflower seeds\n  start_ms: 286940\n  end_ms: 290710\n- text: Hella keys like a custodian, or should I say janitor (janitor)\n  start_ms: 290710\n  end_ms: 293480\n- text: I'm a expert at gettin' money, ho, I ain't an amateur (amateur)\n  start_ms: 293480\n  end_ms: 296040\n- text: Your bitch keep callin' my phone, she want me to manage her (manage her)\n  start_ms: 296040\n  end_ms: 299410\n- text: I told her to leave me alone, I'm off this bottle (bottle)\n  start_ms: 299410\n  end_ms: 302330\n- text: Not only that, but I heard she got blue waffle (blue waffle)\n  start_ms: 302330\n  end_ms: 305190\n- text: I wouldn't fuck that ho with your dick, fool\n  start_ms: 305190\n  end_ms: 306950\n- text: I'm a fixture, a factor, a ball-oholic\n  start_ms: 306950\n  end_ms: 308820\n- text: Whatever I want I bought it\n  start_ms: 308820\n  end_ms: 310280\n- text: You name it I got it\n  start_ms: 310280\n  end_ms: 311420\n- text: Turn it and flip in my pockets, they're talkin' the town mob\n  start_ms: 311420\n  end_ms: 313500\n- text: Ridin' around with a frown with my goblins\n  start_ms: 313500\n  end_ms: 315960\n- text: (Hold up, before we end this off)\n  start_ms: 315960\n  end_ms: 317630\n- text: (We gotta take it back to where it all started)\n  start_ms: 317630\n  end_ms: 319420\n- text: (The OG, Ice-T)\n  start_ms: 319420\n  end_ms: 320580\n- text: (What the fuck?) Don't ask, gray beard's black mass\n  start_ms: 320580\n  end_ms: 323420\n- text: Crack that safe fast, pistol-whip your bitch ass\n  start_ms: 323420\n  end_ms: 326410\n- text: OG, old nigga, 40 cal., Hair trigger\n  start_ms: 326410\n  end_ms: 329670\n- text: Fed more fuckin' fans than FEMA, diss me and I'll come to see ya\n  start_ms: 329670\n  end_ms: 332570\n- text: Just because you're still alive, slipped and thought the beef died\n  start_ms: 332570\n  end_ms: 335070\n- text: The big homie sent a gite, green light's on for life\n  start_ms: 335070\n  end_ms: 338040\n- text: Still on my bullshit, Black Ghost full of Crips\n  start_ms: 338040\n  end_ms: 340950\n- text: Want some, get some, pop off, get done\n  start_ms: 340950\n  end_ms: 343630\n- text: (Brra) a hundred round drum on a handgun\n  start_ms: 343630\n  end_ms: 346540\n- text: Pushed the line, get tacked, shots call from super max\n  start_ms: 346540\n  end_ms: 350010\n- text: Now you got the drama, what you gonna do?\n  start_ms: 350010\n  end_ms: 352510\n- text: I couldn't stop my niggas if I wanted to\n  start_ms: 352510\n  end_ms: 355210\n- text: This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  start_ms: 355210\n  end_ms: 358250\n- text: Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\n  start_ms: 358250\n  end_ms: 361170\n- text: Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n  start_ms: 361170\n  end_ms: 363760\n- text: Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast\n  start_ms: 363760\n  end_ms: 366970\n- text: (You're welcome)\n  start_ms: 366970\nplain: |-\n  It's your boy Khao, man\n  West Coast\n  We here\n  Let's go (Khao)\n  This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\n  Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n  Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (ay, yo, Problem)\n  The home girls crackin' cards (cards) niggas flockin'\n  Mercedes-benz hittin' corners, these bitches watchin'\n  Dirty choppers, niggas yacked up, potted up\n  Best be official, tatted tears, bullet tissue\n  Wipe that right off, made a play for like a hundred-K\n  P Jay to the Bay and fucked it right off, yea (I'm out)\n  Black Osama\n  Chach-comptown Obama\n  Red Kool-Aid, niggas lockin' with they baby mamas\n  Yea, Problem, yea, that's me, champ (on God)\n  Tequila got me bent like knee-cap (Ice) no cap\n  Mixed with Dom Pérignon with that Cognac (uh-oh)\n  Fake shit, I'on't know that, yo' new bitch my throwback\n  (Nipsey) I'm in the Forbes, and I ain't relaxin'\n  I been to war as a famous rapper (hey)\n  I made mills, then I paid my taxes\n  Then I wifed up my favorite actress\n  And post pictures on vacation with a lengthy caption\n  Couple pies, they ain't came from Gladys\n  I'm surprised I escaped the madness\n  I grew up on under Tony, Cody, they respect, they was savage\n  Can't believe I carried Fatt's casket, look\n  I'm in my feelin's, but it ain't compassion\n  Six shots, but I ain't relaxin'\n  I got mouths to feed and they expect a sandwich\n  Some were down as I respect the balance\n  This shit real, but I accept the challenge\n  We shot it out in broad day, and never checked for cameras\n  And talk reckless on these phones just to check this cabbage\n  My slum burnt, it's forever scalin'\n  We all active, how I grew up\n  Caught slippin', it was never passion (ha-ha)\n  We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential\n  We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (Game, let's go)\n  I got murder on my mind\n  Hollow tips on my nine\n  Chronic smoke in my eyes, but I can bust it if I'm blind\n  Bitch, I'm on one, tatted up, my baby mama trippin'\n  Got me whippin' the Benz, dippin', my trigger finger itchin'\n  Got my drawstrings pulled tight, my Chucks on Suge Knight\n  My braids on O-Dog, the homie said it's on sight\n  So, pop goes the weasel, if I see you then your body drop\n  That mouth he couldn't keep closed, that's what got him shot\n  West side the set though, niggas is to the left lost\n  My strap and Bompton—two things I never let go\n  Tell twelve, \"Fuck 'em,\" tell my mama I love her\n  She make the best potatoes and keep the fuckin' barrel smothered\n  I'm a killer, nigga (woo)\n  I'm a Steeler nigga\n  Black and gold to the pole, ring-ding-dong\n  Big King Kong\n  Knockin' out the teacher like I'm Cheech and Chong\n  As the beat goes on\n  Don't try and catch it, scratch, or match it\n  My homies layin' low under your mattress\n  Tactics of a Navy Seal, my baby real\n  She keep me up on it, you niggas don't want it\n  I been grippin' since the eighties, when the game was real shady\n  Never leave my house without my deuce five, that's my lady\n  She been with me a long time, 'bout—380\n  And I got that mothafuckin' nine milly, baby\n  Now, Felicia said, Keisha said, Alicia said\n  They all birds waitin' on a piece of bread (ha-ha)\n  We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential\n  We official, ask us about us, whole team official (West side)\n  Street credentials, automatic street sweep potential (let's go)\n  This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up (hey)\n  Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n  Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast (Mozzy, let's go)\n  High as funk, when you broke and niggas need a pistol\n  Your brother blasted outta state, and he ain't leave a pistol? (Huh?)\n  Feed it crystal, let it go and Run the G.F.e. (yeah)\n  My young life boost your door behind a PS3\n  Lemon juice inside the recipe, the fiends love it\n  We needed onions, they only funded us double ups (hey)\n  We was up and comin', the tweakers ain't never come to us\n  Three for twenty-five is the only reason they fuck with us (woo ooh)\n  Blue Mercedes, the gator, and now we down to run (hey)\n  Never take a trip with a Demon, they never gun enough (hey)\n  Never been the type, But the homie never had to bump me up (hey)\n  I love you if you dropped on the bail when the fifth cuffed me up (yeah)\n  Look (let's go)\n  West side gangsta, young rich gang banger\n  Got arrested, bailed out before I hit the station\n  (Hey) back to the spot, we wade deep on the block\n  We gon' fight and shoot, whether it's even or not\n  I'm just a Broadway baby, young Broadway gangsta\n  It's a drought on the real, so ain't no enemies hatin' (hey)\n  Truce fleece blanket, Crip blue bangin'\n  Quarter million-dollar car, still around the hood hangin'\n  Still pullin' up on haters, you don't like it then come fade me\n  Ballin' gettin' paper (hey) goin' crazy (oh)\n  See me in traffic, got that shit I be rappin'\n  I ain't under no pressure, that's why these niggas mad at it, it's G\n  This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  West up, West up, West up, West up (let the Kessler speak, man)\n  (E-40)\n  Dirty deeds, cleanin' my pistol and eatin' sunflower seeds\n  Hella keys like a custodian, or should I say janitor (janitor)\n  I'm a expert at gettin' money, ho, I ain't an amateur (amateur)\n  Your bitch keep callin' my phone, she want me to manage her (manage her)\n  I told her to leave me alone, I'm off this bottle (bottle)\n  Not only that, but I heard she got blue waffle (blue waffle)\n  I wouldn't fuck that ho with your dick, fool\n  I'm a fixture, a factor, a ball-oholic\n  Whatever I want I bought it\n  You name it I got it\n  Turn it and flip in my pockets, they're talkin' the town mob\n  Ridin' around with a frown with my goblins\n  (Hold up, before we end this off)\n  (We gotta take it back to where it all started)\n  (The OG, Ice-T)\n  (What the fuck?) Don't ask, gray beard's black mass\n  Crack that safe fast, pistol-whip your bitch ass\n  OG, old nigga, 40 cal., Hair trigger\n  Fed more fuckin' fans than FEMA, diss me and I'll come to see ya\n  Just because you're still alive, slipped and thought the beef died\n  The big homie sent a gite, green light's on for life\n  Still on my bullshit, Black Ghost full of Crips\n  Want some, get some, pop off, get done\n  (Brra) a hundred round drum on a handgun\n  Pushed the line, get tacked, shots call from super max\n  Now you got the drama, what you gonna do?\n  I couldn't stop my niggas if I wanted to\n  This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up\n  Black, brown, red, blue, nigga, throw your set up\n  Gettin' money, got that attitude, don't step close\n  Unified, bankin' in your city, it's the West Coast\n  (You're welcome)\n"}]