Released: April 28, 1998
Featuring: CJ Mac Daz Dillinger Ice Cube
Songwriter: Big Daddy Kane Marley Marl WC Ice Cube Daz Dillinger CJ Mac
Producer: Daz Dillinger
[Intro: Daz Dillinger + WC]
Clown, muthafucka, clown
Yeah (“Check it out y’all”)
Back in your muthafuckin’ ass once more (“Check it out y’all”)
Dub-C, CJ Mac, and Ice Cube, and diggy Daz knocking down your door
Crazy Toones, what’s happening? Yeah, break it down like that
Show these niggas where their heart at
Show these niggas where heart
[Crazy Toones scratching]
(“That’s right”) (“Here I come”) (“Mad muthafuckin’ CM Mac”)
(“Here I come”) (“Mad muthafuckin’ CJ Mac”)
(“That’s right”)(“Here I come”)(“Mad muthafuckin’ CJ Mac”)
(“It’s like that y’all, it’s like that y’all…it’s like that-uh-that-that”)
(“Like that y’all, it’s like that y’all...”)(“And it goes a little something like this”)
[Verse 1: CJ Mac]
10 years ago, a friend of mine
Gave me a half a chicken, told me, “Hoodsta, go grind”
Bought a half a gallon, beaker, and a pound of pro
Swear to God you niggas never see me short no more
From the Southern Cali alleyways to birds in Virginia
Mr. Woo swoop the coupe on dubs, I ain’t bullshittin’
Flossy flossy, you droppin’ carachi
I got china white, now what you set like?
Bling, look at my wrist, you see my diamonds done blinking
One stone, 7-karat ring, nigga
CJ Mac, I swerve Impalas, spend dollars, and floss jewels
I’m on Cristal, bust a pistol, first boss move
You niggas hate me, but give me respect
And love head, known to keep a bitch taco naked
Punk biatch, I fuck ‘em if she’s stealing me clothes
Fuck a misdemeanor bitch and fuck with felony hoes
[Verse 2: Daz Dillinger]
Now all of y’all are OG’s
All my real niggas roll with these
We got something vicious up our sleeves
Making niggas bleed dead in the street
For what you claim for the rep and the name
Get looney insane, we tie ‘em to the brain
Motto of Tha Gang: “We blast and maintain”
We got fame, status for flying, giving niggas static
Making their muthafuckin’ hearts so panicked
We back, Cube, Dub, CJ Mac
True indeed riders, punk, we Westsiders
No other can divide us, make the barrel blow my fire
Making all these sucker ass niggas run and expire
Like that, what it is, my opponents get shut ‘til the end
That’s how it is
[Interlude: Ice Cube]
Supreme gangsta shit
We dream gangsta shit
Supreme gangsta shit
We dream gangsta shit
[Crazy Toones scratching]
(“Ice Cube…back up in this B-I-itch”)
[Verse 3: Ice Cube]
The mega don, uh-huh, the episode
Scrillions is what a nigga fold
We meant it, rollin’ in tinted, the authentic
Ghetto scented, we invented, highly recommended
Go independent, and defend it
Ain’t scared to throw up my dub and represent it (Westside)
It’s Beretta and Mister Mo’ Cheddar
Let Ice Cube rhyme last, niggas know better
See me in this godfather, you better tuck your tail
Fuck a bitch dreams, niggas waiting too in hell
Take a photo, niggas know, though
Ice Cube went from Soul-Glo to a fuckin’ mogul
Bet your hoe know we’s in town, fresh off Con-Air
Gave a concierge cab fare, pullin’ hair, slappin’ titties
Giving her shitties to new jack cities
Delectable, rich and pretty
[Crazy Toones scratching]
(“Like that y’all, it’s like that y’all…it’s like that-uh-that-that”)
(“Like that y’all, it’s like that y’all, it’s like that-uh-that-that, it’s like that y’all”)
(“Dub-C…back up in this B-I-itch”)
[Verse 4: WC]
Now what in the fuck is this? C. Mac, Cube, Daz
How would the fuck I look letting y’all clown without me riding with y’all ass?
Take it up outta the Cadillac, hittin’ front and back
Talking shit on rings, tattoos and golf hats
Last year was Curb Servin’, this year I’m counting stacks
With the don, the Dillinger, me the killer, my nigga C. Mac blown off ‘gnac
Strictly G’s, bitch, no fleas in my clique
Just niggas in colored beanies with that 7-digit itch
Keep it rich, ‘cause gangsta rap shit, nigga, I’m in love with it
Stuck with it; if it ain’t that gangsta shit, I can’t fuck with it
Since the days of Funkadelic, I’ve been giving it up
Creasing these khakis, folding the tongue on these Chucks
They say G’s keep the world spinning—well, if that’s true
Picture me spinning the globe on my middle finger like Meadowlark Lemon
Fuck the world, I’m through with you bustas in ‘98
Give me the pussy, the money, and the mic and I’m straight
[Crazy Toones scratching]
(“Like that y’all…it’s like that y’all…it’s like that-uh-that-that, it’s like that y’all”)
(“Like that y’all, it’s like that y’all, it’s like that-uh-that-that, it’s like that y’all”)
Clown, muthafucka, clown
Yeah (“Check it out y’all”)
Back in your muthafuckin’ ass once more (“Check it out y’all”)
Dub-C, CJ Mac, and Ice Cube, and diggy Daz knocking down your door
Crazy Toones, what’s happening? Yeah, break it down like that
Show these niggas where their heart at
Show these niggas where heart
[Crazy Toones scratching]
(“That’s right”) (“Here I come”) (“Mad muthafuckin’ CM Mac”)
(“Here I come”) (“Mad muthafuckin’ CJ Mac”)
(“That’s right”)(“Here I come”)(“Mad muthafuckin’ CJ Mac”)
(“It’s like that y’all, it’s like that y’all…it’s like that-uh-that-that”)
(“Like that y’all, it’s like that y’all...”)(“And it goes a little something like this”)
[Verse 1: CJ Mac]
10 years ago, a friend of mine
Gave me a half a chicken, told me, “Hoodsta, go grind”
Bought a half a gallon, beaker, and a pound of pro
Swear to God you niggas never see me short no more
From the Southern Cali alleyways to birds in Virginia
Mr. Woo swoop the coupe on dubs, I ain’t bullshittin’
Flossy flossy, you droppin’ carachi
I got china white, now what you set like?
Bling, look at my wrist, you see my diamonds done blinking
One stone, 7-karat ring, nigga
CJ Mac, I swerve Impalas, spend dollars, and floss jewels
I’m on Cristal, bust a pistol, first boss move
You niggas hate me, but give me respect
And love head, known to keep a bitch taco naked
Punk biatch, I fuck ‘em if she’s stealing me clothes
Fuck a misdemeanor bitch and fuck with felony hoes
[Verse 2: Daz Dillinger]
Now all of y’all are OG’s
All my real niggas roll with these
We got something vicious up our sleeves
Making niggas bleed dead in the street
For what you claim for the rep and the name
Get looney insane, we tie ‘em to the brain
Motto of Tha Gang: “We blast and maintain”
We got fame, status for flying, giving niggas static
Making their muthafuckin’ hearts so panicked
We back, Cube, Dub, CJ Mac
True indeed riders, punk, we Westsiders
No other can divide us, make the barrel blow my fire
Making all these sucker ass niggas run and expire
Like that, what it is, my opponents get shut ‘til the end
That’s how it is
[Interlude: Ice Cube]
Supreme gangsta shit
We dream gangsta shit
Supreme gangsta shit
We dream gangsta shit
[Crazy Toones scratching]
(“Ice Cube…back up in this B-I-itch”)
[Verse 3: Ice Cube]
The mega don, uh-huh, the episode
Scrillions is what a nigga fold
We meant it, rollin’ in tinted, the authentic
Ghetto scented, we invented, highly recommended
Go independent, and defend it
Ain’t scared to throw up my dub and represent it (Westside)
It’s Beretta and Mister Mo’ Cheddar
Let Ice Cube rhyme last, niggas know better
See me in this godfather, you better tuck your tail
Fuck a bitch dreams, niggas waiting too in hell
Take a photo, niggas know, though
Ice Cube went from Soul-Glo to a fuckin’ mogul
Bet your hoe know we’s in town, fresh off Con-Air
Gave a concierge cab fare, pullin’ hair, slappin’ titties
Giving her shitties to new jack cities
Delectable, rich and pretty
[Crazy Toones scratching]
(“Like that y’all, it’s like that y’all…it’s like that-uh-that-that”)
(“Like that y’all, it’s like that y’all, it’s like that-uh-that-that, it’s like that y’all”)
(“Dub-C…back up in this B-I-itch”)
[Verse 4: WC]
Now what in the fuck is this? C. Mac, Cube, Daz
How would the fuck I look letting y’all clown without me riding with y’all ass?
Take it up outta the Cadillac, hittin’ front and back
Talking shit on rings, tattoos and golf hats
Last year was Curb Servin’, this year I’m counting stacks
With the don, the Dillinger, me the killer, my nigga C. Mac blown off ‘gnac
Strictly G’s, bitch, no fleas in my clique
Just niggas in colored beanies with that 7-digit itch
Keep it rich, ‘cause gangsta rap shit, nigga, I’m in love with it
Stuck with it; if it ain’t that gangsta shit, I can’t fuck with it
Since the days of Funkadelic, I’ve been giving it up
Creasing these khakis, folding the tongue on these Chucks
They say G’s keep the world spinning—well, if that’s true
Picture me spinning the globe on my middle finger like Meadowlark Lemon
Fuck the world, I’m through with you bustas in ‘98
Give me the pussy, the money, and the mic and I’m straight
[Crazy Toones scratching]
(“Like that y’all…it’s like that y’all…it’s like that-uh-that-that, it’s like that y’all”)
(“Like that y’all, it’s like that y’all, it’s like that-uh-that-that, it’s like that y’all”)