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10. Westside Connection - Lights Out
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Ice Cube
Ice Cube
Vocals
Knoc-Turn'al
Knoc-Turn'al
Vocals
Mack 10
Mack 10
Vocals
WC
WC
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Damion "Damizza" Young
Damion "Damizza" Young
Songwriter
HOWIE HERSH
HOWIE HERSH
Songwriter
Royal Habor
Royal Habor
Songwriter
O'Shea Jackson
O'Shea Jackson
Songwriter
Dedrick Rolison
Dedrick Rolison
Songwriter
William Calhoun
William Calhoun
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Damion "Damizza" Young
Damion "Damizza" Young
Producer
Brian Gardner
Brian Gardner
Mastering Engineer

Songteksten

Now that's cool You know I chill wit' ch'all though, a little bit Fuck the RZA I ain't give a fuck about that nigga And he came hittin' my weed He came drinkin' my Hen' Matter of fact, if I see him in traffic, even know y'all fuck with him, it's on All lights are on This is for the G in me, let's go (let's go) Get yo' party on with me (get it crackin' in this motherfucker) Lights out I'll give you everything you need, and more On the mic, I been a demon since semen How you screamin' "Oh mama, here come that young O'Sama" With that Al-Quaida drama Fuck no It's the Dalai Lama, wit' that West World Order Now MC's Bow Down and treat me like Yoda When they catch me in the corner after club Like, "Nigga what", they t'ow up the dub So you can tell Samuel L. I'ma keep ac'in You can even tell that motherfucker Jesse Jackson Pay your child support, keep your payments up Put a rubber on and don't fuck wit' us All lights are on This is for the G in me, let's go Get yo' party on with me Lights out I'll give you everything you need, and more Mack pull up in the rag, Chevy layed the ass And crumble green on a Zig-Zag and lace it with hash I keep a nine millimeter cocked and ready to blast So when the phone jump off, a nigga ready to smash I drink my 'gnac out the bottle, I don't fuck wit' a glass And I ain't sip trippin' dog, that's a thing of the past And I stay in good shape so my stamina last And put hands on a motherfucker 'bout my cash I was a stick up kid, I snatch your chain and dash And if the pawn shop wanted it, I downed it fast Or I'm creepin' through your window breakin' out your glass Then I rob the whole party lookin' through a ski-mask, c'mon All lights are on This is for the G in me, let's go Get yo' party on with me Lights out I'll give you everything you need, and more From the land of the Lakers, bird brakers, Impala pedals While we chop dollars wit' those in sombreros It's the check a hoe, when the cutlass checkin' doe So, so ghetto Dub S rep the ball Ball gritty but a crew a hog's wit' me And V.I.P. yo' from mad dog 20-20 Dub C. chunkin' up at 23rd alphabetical Steel swiss hanging like a testicle Lick one, two to the nose my bump was swaz, huh Take a picture trick my foe's posing like the Heisman I'm burnin' money, trying to slide some in your tummy (what?) Leave your panties gummy, have you walkin' funny, trick All lights are on This is for the G in me, let's go Get yo' party on with me Lights out I'll give you everything you need, and more All lights are on This is for the G in me, let's go Get yo' party on with me Lights out I'll give you everything you need, and more Ooh, lights out Ooh, lights out Ooh, lights out
Writer(s): O'shea Jackson, Howie Hersh, Dedrick Rolison, William Calhoun, Damion Young, R. Harbor Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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