One, two, three, four Get you a bitch up on the floor You gotta get up to get down You gotta get up to get down To the West! March! Flags creased and starched Uh-oh, here we go again Pullin' off the chain, the Dub-Best-C gang State yo' name, Ice Cube, motha' fuck What's yo' name? Mac-10, motha' fuck Well, bang on, swang on Cause on mine, I'm a G on Dub-C letters, C-known Get my green on, with my white sling on With a Morangin' With my khakis cuffed and draggin' Three wheels, make that shit wheel This West Coast shit is the shit we deal Who wanna fuck with a bitch? Well, as a matter of fact, y'all can't fuck with it I'm off the roof with it, bang loose with it Dub-C from that Dub-Best-C That show to make a beast, man, off the G-slang Walk, walk, let me see you walk Walk, walk, let me see you walk Walk, walk, let me see you walk Walk, walk, let me see you walk West! March! Callin' all calls, us look hard, mid-park cars After dark, ghetto storm Ice Cube, motha' fuck, I represent this Don't mistake the master for the apprentice All you pros are defenseless Like a Catholic priest and about ten kids It's Sunday school, I run you fools You ain't gon' do shh, I got the flip, blueprint Spit it like I'm gon' spit it Wanna get it, but they won't admit it I'm connected and committed, all the way with it While you bulls, I'm on exhibit Like a pit bull off the chain Motha' fucks gon' flip out Brokes get ripped out Gon' trip out Crip out With a fuck about Rip out With a brick house With my cock out Sayin' fuck, yeah, my whole career I kept it gangsta and hustla Walk, walk, just let me be your walk Walk, walk, just let me be your walk Walk, walk, just let me be your walk Walk, walk, just let me be your walk The West March Callin' all calls, us look hard, mid-park cars After dark, ghetto storm And so the ghetto in the gutter, every time I spit For the motha' that walk off that Funkadelic I just might go psycho and fuck the automatic And let one off for the gangbang addicts Cause I'm Westside connected like a hand in the glove And I'm the gangsta rapper at the D-Boy's love Hopped out braidin' and valetin' in front of the club I hit the dope, speak, I hit him up with the dub And even on the East Coast, I rep who bangin' Iced out, creased khakis with a red flag hangin' Finna bust the, give hair to Skeet and the Joe And if I let my hair down, all the, all pose Get your hood, your borough, your tribe, your troop And ain't no, in the gang that can beat this group Mack 10 and Connectors, the hood, I claim We do the damn thing and it's off the chain We're west! March! Calling all cars, look hard, Mirapark cars After dark, ghetto style We're west! March! Calling all cars, look hard, Mirapark cars After dark, ghetto style Walk, walk, let me see you walk Walk, walk, let me see you walk Walk, walk, let me see you walk Walk, walk, let me see you walk Walk, walk, let me see you walk Walk, walk, let me see you walk Walk, walk, let me see you walk Walk, walk, let me see you walk Yeah, dumbass CG Y'all can't see my groove Gotta put this shit on the map And I'ma keep this shit mapped Sign still delivers, let's get it, let's get it We fucked up, you a fool Yeah, don't get entangled or twisted Ride with us or get rolled on All day, every day Westside Connect Gang, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh Westside the Riders, baby