[Intro]
West Coast, twist it up
Southern Cali and Northern Cali done connected
The originators of this hyphy shit
Rick Rock
Ah yeah man you know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout
You know we had to do the remix, you know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout? (West Coast)
Hyphy movement without Federation like the desert without the sand, man, you know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout?
And you know I gotta come with my homeboys, man, you know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, from Southern Cal’, man
We gon’ get down lil’ bit like this

[Verse 1: WC]
I dive (I dive), I dip (I dip)
I walk the walk and just skip, skip skip skip skip skip skip skip
Hold up Rick Rock that’s old let me switch the flow
(Aight, fa’ sho’)
Dub-C off that gangsta lean, shit
Off that Federation remix (Hey)
All day every day we blaze hay
Bang from L.A. to thе Bay, C-A
I was born to ball and big sling
Here comes thе big ball-hitter, holding my ding-a-ling
[?] my man, don’t ask if he shoot (Uh-huh)
Rag hangin’ out the GT coupe (Get ‘em out)
Ain’t no better than this Westside veteran
Tec-Nine-carryin’, dirty money-buryin’ (Uh-huh)
Disrespect and I bury ya (I bury ya)
Dub-C, and I fucks with the Yay’ Area
The original shady, stolen, icy wrist (Woo)
Triple-creased white tee, crisp, trip
Back on that shiesty shit
Federation started this hyphy shit—we dip!
[Verse 2]
L.A. fornicatin’ with the Bay
Nine months later, everybody Federatin’
White tees and khakis, we mixin’ it up
Low-lows and scrapers, we open ‘em up
[?] for dub
[?] middle fingers, hit ‘em with the dub
Show Southern Cal’ how we dummy it out
Ghost-ride the whip and stay gold-grilled-out
Dub-C told me we would bridge the gap
And all that we needed was a Rick Rock slap
Spit it uncut like we chews the trap
And watch how the gangstas salute and dap, ‘cause we dip!

[Hook]
I dip (I dip), I stunt (I stunt)
I only wear my white tees once
Roll trees (Roll trees), blow blunts (Blow blunts)
Open my mouth, show these hoes my fronts (Remix)
I dip (I dip), I stunt (I stunt)
I only wear my white tees once
Roll trees (Roll trees), blow blunts (Blow blunts)
Open my mouth, show these hoes my fronts (Remix)

[Verse 3]
Crisp white tee, so cool, no shades
The model in my scraper ain’t ate in three days
Keep them block shootin’, [?]
Forties with a belt still saggin’ hella hard
We go dummy, got grapes in the baggie
Most of my homies ain’t got no daddy
Quit tryna be hyphy, you a lame
The boy from the Bay like Orenthal James
Stunner shades, it’s a pill on me
I got a crush on a broad that go to USC (Yeah)
You can catch me on the block burnin’ rubber
Tryna get money like Rev Run brother, and I dip
[Verse 4: Tash]
And I’m a rider, paper-chaser from the group Tha Alkaholiks
Wear my white tee once and throw that shit up in the garbage
Hit the Slauson with a knot and got everybody tweakin’
Give me nine double-X’s, that’ll last me through the weekend
The flawless nightcrawler, ain’t another n***a like me
Pop a bottle, do my dance [?] gettin’ hyphy
Long Island Iced Tea, that’s my medication
Y’all can stare from over there, I’m fuckin’ with the Federation

[Hook]
I dip (I dip), I stunt (I stunt)
I only wear my white tees once
Roll trees (Roll trees), blow blunts (Blow blunts)
Open my mouth, show these hoes my fronts (Remix)
I dip (I dip), I stunt (I stunt)
I only wear my white tees once
Roll trees (Roll trees), blow blunts (Blow blunts)
Open my mouth, show these hoes my fronts (Remix)

[Bridge]
I’ma teach you how to get hyphy
I’ma show you how to get hyphy
I’ma teach you how to get hyphy
I’ma show you how to get hyphy
I’ma teach you how to get hyphy
I’ma show you how to get hyphy
I’ma teach you how to get hyphy
I’ma show you how to get hyphy
[Verse 5]
Yeah we throwin’ up a big-ass W
West Coast and white tees, that means trouble, fool
Beast pimp, go diablo
Do my [?] top-notch
Under my four-club, four-four snub’
Three-X tall, I’m young but I’m so grown-up (Yes)
No buttons (No buttons), and no collars
Still pop greasy, talk I.T. up out her daughter
The B (B), the A (A), the Y (Y)
Hyphy, we go dumb and all that, boy
We done cliqued with Rick, bitch you know how we Rock
All on my shirt like Pac off top

[Verse 6: Battle Loc]
Yeah S.P. gangster elite ride extremity
Bang gang bleeding with some Southern-Cal chemistry (Battle Loc!)
Rick Rock got ‘em out the club and the low-lows
Scrapers and the grapes, bitches, Porsches, and the winos
And I’m oh-so Cal (Oh-so Cal)
Oh so west, oh so South, wow
Six-one Nina Ross
Cheech and Chong purple burn it in a bong, huh
Battle Loc on deck
Tyrannosaurus Rex, real gangster vet, zilla!
Blowin’ fire to a track
Burnin’ all the rubber off your tires when I rap, boom!
You wanna tune [?]
[?] party monster
Saggin’ and draggin’ is all I know
Everybody see me like, “There he go” (There he go)
Seesaw in a cutout coupe
Girls wavin’ at me like, “Is that Snoop?” Nah
It’s your neighborhood mobster
Extra-long white tee, Black Sinatra

[Outro]
Y-Yeah
Fed’ Gang
Take that white tee off
Lookin’ dingy ‘round the collar