Testo Call 9-1-1 - Westside Connection
Testo della canzone Call 9-1-1 (Westside Connection), tratta dall'album Gangsta Nation Live
Westside
Westside
Westside
Yeah, yeah
This right here is considered a banger
Delivered with anger, your life is in danger (come on)
Beware of them strangers (what?) Holdin' them flamers (what?)
Them naggers with swagger, 'cause they keep it gangsta
Just face it, I blaze shit, yo' shit is basic
My shit is Matrix (what?) Make you erase shit (what?)
Niggas won't say shit, but DJs you ain't shit
'Cause you don't play shit, unless it's that gay shit
I'm straight off the slave ship, my style is ancient
I'm rich, and I'm famous, I'm armed, I'm dangerous
I came with that language, it's mad, it's brainless
You studied at Cambridge, I'm fuckin' yo' main bitch
Plus, my ebonics is full of gin and tonic, erotic
Yeah, you got it, Hypnotic, plus psychotic, nigga
After 9-11, niggas got patriotic
On 9-12, I'm like, "Fuck it nigga blaze the chronic"
Call 9-11 (what?) Then call your reverend (what?)
Then call heaven (what?) Here I come Lord
Live by the gun, die by the gun
An eye for an eye when you live and die by the sword
This right here is considered a banger (tell 'em again)
Delivered with anger, your life is in danger (what?)
Beware of them strangers (what?) Holdin' them flamers (what?)
Them naggers with swagger, 'cause they keep it gangsta (nigga)
Now it's the mornin' after the night I just rolled (rolled)
9-1-1 ain't an area code it's a gangsta mode (gangsta mode)
And I'm still in amazement on how I put it down
Emptied round after round, rat-tat-tat was the sound (nigga)
Now understand the situation, it was urgent
We-, we handled this emergency urgently (what?)
I can't just have no nigga out there just workin' me, jerkin' me
Talkin' all kind of shit, dishing dirt on me, shit (yeah)
He was a local nigga sheisty and didn't wanna pay up (what?)
So I got dressed in all black and loaded the K up (come on)
And all I could think about is revenge as I lit the J up (yeah)
And even though it was late night, I still fucked his whole day up
It was child's play, the youngster took me for a joke (yeah)
Not knowin' Mack, a maniac and I love the gun smoke
Make sparks in my barrel, shit flew through his apparel
Stupid motherfucker lost his life over dinero, uh
Call 9-11, then call your reverend
Then call heaven, here I come Lord
Live by the gun (come on), die by the gun (come on)
An eye for an eye when you live and die by the sword
This right here is considered a banger
Delivered with anger, your life is in danger (yeah)
Beware of them strangers (nigga), holdin' them flamers (nigga)
Them naggers with swagger, 'cause they keep it gangsta
It ain't safe no fuckin' more
I swear on everything I love, my hood, my momma, my soul
This motherfuckin' Dub is hall of bang nigga (bang nigga), I claim nigga (yeah)
Like PCP to the brain, it's like heroin in my veins nigga
White lightnin' I'm sippin', snickerin', slippin' the crip
And like a fiend, I tremble, shiver and then (blow your dome to smithereens)
Act up, no actor, starch crease swagger
Dick harder than Viagra, Dub push your wig backwards
Connect alumni, but the gun high
Bloods and Crips and when we touch down, we turn niggas' hoods into the Gaza Strip
Squeeze lead, to the y'all dead, 'cause I'm fucked up in the can
And I fuck a bitch over whether she in blue or (all red)
The industry most hated, nigga get at us, we ready, Dub, Mack and Cube
Like Saddam, Bin Laden and O.J. in the Chevy (yeah)
Back again, momma, there go that man again (uh-huh)
Grab the gun, them niggas on one, call 9-1-1
This right here is considered a banger
Delivered with anger, your life is in danger
Beware of them strangers (come on), holdin' them flamers (come on)
Them naggers with swagger, 'cause they keep it gangsta
Credits
Writer(s): O'shea Jackson, Dedrick D'mon Rolison, William Calhoun, Treyvon T. Green
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