Connected for Life - Ice Cube, Mack 10, Butch Cassidy

I jumped out the blocks like ready!

set!

go!

Check all my traps and dodge to Fedco

I’m all up the mix like a fuckin collage

And out in the garage, is a Bentley Onage

With the brains blowed out, so the suns beaming

I got the jackers drooling and the hoes feinding

Since I’m Westside Connected I got a streets on hype

I got big deals, big skrill, big wheels, big pipes

Twenty-inches roll Ђ" goin’get these hoes

Picky hoes — wanna roll with my Negroes

Be a freak about it and I’m a see about it Speak about it, no bitch, I’m a be about it Who want some of this, West running this

Mack 10 with the playboy bunny bitch

She’s a dummy bitch — where the money pit?

You broke ass niggas can’t even stomach this

What that connect like?

Nigga three time felon.

Six-double-0 West selling, rich, rebellin'.

Throw it up;

hold it up, guns bust, four fingers up,

Two twisted in the middle with the thumb cuffed.

Chevy mashin', dipping the ass n’killin’a zaggin.

44'mag'n and toe tagging

Dub the hood phantom and I’m in a blue phantom.

In front of the club, I’m valet, dumpin’a tall can of magnum, trick.

What is it like?

Tossing 'em hoes

And rolling on fools on them fo’s

Flossing 'em chains, we doing big thangs

And busting on punks at close range

This is the way us gangsta’s roll

Sit back and watch as it unfolds

Bitches and suckas done so cold

Ahhh!

This is the life we chose

Dope money and rapping shit I'm all with it And all I know is streets, so this is how I spit it Chicken hawk see a bird, and I gotta get it So if ya hood come up short, then I'd probably did

it and if your momma thick then I gotta hit it The Trojans gotta be a magnum for me to fit it If its sherm on a stick then I probably lit it The red beam is on your wig so I probably split it To all them bitches that

think they bootylicious

I think they nutritious- I think they do dishes

I make 'em three wishes — of takin’they pictures

And spending they riches- I fuck 'em they bitches

Ego-maniac, little homies call me brainiac

Ice Cube is an ass-hole, and it ain’t an act

So take a hit of that — and remember that

Where my motha-fuckin'niggas and my bitches at?

Tr-i-ick I’m W. C, the rider of the clique.

Like a dragon its nothin’but fire when I spit

And I can’t shake these ghetto ways

I street rich nigga eatin’a bag of lays

Some rubber bands some braids

From the turf for the sirens and ambulance

Where we keep the pistols smoking like Afghanistan

It’s the gangsta, the killa, the dope dealer

Back for more figgas-, so trick, bow down and pour the liquor, bitch!

What is it like?

Tossin 'em hos

And rollin’on fools on them vogues

Flossin''em chains, we doin’big thangs

And busting on punks at close range

This is the ways us gangsta’s roll

Sit back and watch as it unfolds

Bitches and suckas done so cold

Ahhh!

This is the life we chose

It’s plain to see you can’t change me Cause I’m a be Connected For Life

Yeah!

Westside Connect gang for life

Butch Cassidy, Manny Fresh you’re a fool for this b-boy

uh, uh, uh