album cover
Where I'm From
28
Gangsta Rap
Where I'm From was released on June 10, 2016 by We The West / Anger Management Music as a part of the album Tales from a Cell
album cover
Release DateJune 10, 2016
LabelWe The West / Anger Management Music
LanguageEnglish
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM82

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

Lyrics

It was like World War 3 going on out here
We never needed no green light from no shot callers
****, we been in go mode
Ready to ride on anybody
If you opposed a threat, or had something that we wanted
Consider it done
Insane Crippin', can't stop, won't stop trippin'
Dippin' down Mission Ave., 40 bottle in my lap
Fuck ****, where them bitches at?
Fuck prison, I ain't going back
I hope you piggies copy that
Be you, don't try and copycat
I keep a python for you rats
Daily I smoke fifty sacks
Clubs is packed whenever I rap
But **** be ending up wanting to scrap
Dangerous everywhere I'm at
Never knowing when shit gon' crack
That's why I'm quick to reach for a strap
At times I felt like I was trapped
But now I'm back where I started
Before I caught them charges
Emptied out my magnum cartridge
Give me the Black & Mild so I can spark it
Turn down Hill Street
Beats knocking in the PT
Don't think that you can beat me
My enemies is below where my feet be
I paid my dues, helped make the rules
You fools know who the fuck I am
And now you can take me with video cams
Stomping with mic in hand
Yet no glory, yes victorious after the worst is over
Weed to nurse a soldier back to health from the exposure
Of the...
I'm from Oceanside, Killa Cali, Mid-Valley, rowdy streets
Switchblades, toting grenades, gauge laid on the passenger seat
My beats bring out the beast and make
**** wanna go on a killing spree
Load up your artillery and buck 'em if you feeling me
I'm from Oceanside, Killa Cali, Mid-Valley, rowdy streets
Switchblades, toting grenades, gauge laid on the passenger seat
My beats bring out the beast and make
**** wanna go on a killing spree
Load up your artillery and buck 'em if you feeling me
I've been gone for twelve years
No need for you fools to welcome me back
Yet and still when I arrive, blue carpets laid out flat
A God in my turf, bring out the best and the worst
House parties be getting shot up
Them youngsters'll snatch your bitch purse
Dope fiends and broken whiskey bottles clutter the curbs on the set
Many of folks in society still consider me as a threat
Die for respect
Oside engraved in my neck with a prison tac gun
If cops raid, blazing pistols we bust, murder 'em then run
Every city got a slum, and I'm here to tell you about my area
Come in from out of town, not knowing your way around?
Somebody gon' bury ya
It's war with Mexicans and Blacks
They mostly mob Regals, we in Cadillacs
Equipped with the strap in the dash
And quick to unload on your bitch ass
No pass if you slipping
Samoans is Bloods, and **** is Crippin'
Some misinterpretate it as race wars and say we trippin'
Shipment of dope from Juco and Hector down in TJ
When **** be hitting me up, this is all I have to see, say
I'm from Oceanside, Killa Cali, Mid-Valley, rowdy streets
Switchblades, toting grenades, gauge laid on the passenger seat
My beats bring out the beast and make
**** wanna go on a killing spree
Load up your artillery and buck 'em if you feeling me
I'm from Oceanside, Killa Cali, Mid-Valley, rowdy streets
Switchblades, toting grenades, gauge laid on the passenger seat
My beats bring out the beast and make
**** wanna go on a killing spree
Load up your artillery and buck 'em if you feeling me
Written by: Calvin Bernard Clemons
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