[Intro]
Blaze up (Oh yeah!)
World wide, don't stop don't stop
West side, don't stop
Mack 10 with Tha Dogg Pound
Yeah and the hits don't stop (Sucka)
Hey, Daz, check this out, dog

[Verse 1: Mack 10]
Now when I come to ya'll hood, ya'll watch my back
And when ya come to Inglewood I'm a front you a sack
So we can grind and get away with the cash like a caper
Cause it ain't about the set-trip, it's all about the paper
Made the poverty cease, on the rise like yeast
A pavé ‘lex piece, and I keep my khaki's creased
Mack 10 is the lick, and ya know what my set be
Connect gang, n***a, from the west, where the best be

[Verse 2: Daz Dillinger]
It ain't no questions asked, you down to blast for me?
Down to ride for me? Down to die for me?
I come through for these sucka-ass n***as who rep
Come creepin' up on shorty slowly, show him death
Pull out the Mack 90 automatic for static
Blast a couple of n***as, leave 'em all panicked
And we swerve and hit the curb, smoke some herb
We came up too much, too tough, and too rough
[Verse 3: Kurupt]
We in the war zone where the war's on, where ya gun, n***a?
Show 'em where you're from, n***a, ridin'-ass young n***a
Arsenel equipped, hot enough to scorch
With the double fours on the hip rolling with the force
He's out to catch a body
Talking, 'bout I thought this was a gangsta party
Now he's walking around salty as the sea
Talking 'bout what's jumpin?
I'm about to get the pump to pumping and start dumping on something

[Hook]
Fuck you over there, party over here
And if you wanna trip, we got the straps near
Cause n***as like us do platinum every year
And if I ruled this sphere [your shit'd disappear]
Now everybody in the house, throw your dubs in the air
And wave 'em all around like ya just don't care
It's worldwide and dope, so, n***a, act like ya savvy
Mack 10 and Tha Pound cooking nothing but the cavi

[Verse 4: Mack 10]
I'm servin' n***as like a host with the pound, so take a toast
Dog, this west coast and our shit bump the most
Cause vine to vine I swing through the woods of Ingle
And everything I make, fuck around and be a single
From the hoo-bangin' hits, to the yes, yes, ya'lls
Now all down my halls, got plaques on my walls
We might slow the roll, sit back and still kick it
But the shit don't stop 'til we hit a meal ticket
[Verse 5: Daz Dillinger]
I'll be goddamned, I'm in it for a meal ticket
And the goal's successful I don't know who to prove a show
Usual swerve a corner and hit a block back-to-back
I don't know, it's like that, where the gang-bangers hang at
They say, "Daz, you a rider?"
I reply with, "Boy, hell yeah, I'm a rider!"
From the east side of Long Beach to the west side of Inglewood
On a cash mission bailing hood to hood

[Verse 6: Kurupt]
Once upon a time in the early stages of my life
Sacrifice, out for the loot shaking n***as like dice
Forever and a day, say what you say
On the mic I display, Philly to LA
I've been all over from Crenshaw and Imperial
To 108th, I'm sure Mack got my back
It's all about mashing, cash and heat in the stash
When you're in the neigborhood of assassins
What you say?

[Hook]

[Outro]
What do you consider fun?
(That's the bomb, that's the bomb)
All day night, and all night long
(That's the bomb, that's the bomb)
When you wake up in the morning and you start to yawn
(That's the bomb, that's the bomb)
All day night, and all day long
(That's the bomb, that's the bomb)
C'mon, c'mon
Yeah, dub S.C.G
D.P.G.C
Take a picture, trick
Take a picture, trick
Take a picture, trick
It might make ya rich
West side!
Biatch
Death Row