Artist: MC Eiht f/ WC
Album:  Which Way Iz West
Song:   Represent Like This
Typed by: Lil Hustle

[WC]
Blum-blum, blinky-blum
When I pull it out I cock it, watch em all run-run
From the gun play, made them lay on they face
And bitch when I spray, it ain't no fucking can of mace
I'm the last nigga to tango with, a cane and a ankle quick
Dub-C and Eiht, on some working them ankles shit
Bout time, some niggaz dropped rhymes
To make you represent, and putting them fingers out high
High haters, from the state of the Raiders
Still getting paper, dressed like Dickey in Taylor's
Raised by this shit, I lay dip and scrapers
Sticking to the script, so this shit can't break us
Touch my chips off, I'll kick y'all
Have you here rolling on the ground, like a motherfucking eight ball
And when I'm readily, keep niggaz wishing like candling
Look mother, there go that man again

[Chorus]
Here we go, here we go again
It's a gangsta hit, and you could represent like this
Here we go, here we go again
It's a gangsta hit, and you could represent like this
Here we go, here we go again
It's a gangsta hit, and you could represent like this
Niggaz g'eah, bitches g'eah
And you could represent, like this

[MC Eiht]
No nuts g'eah loc, no glory
My mind play tricks, but that's another gang story
3-2-1, and the gats bast
One time swoop through, kinda fast
Fast lane life, so a nigga chase
All for the snaps, can a nigga taste
Break o'self, g'eah kill or be killed
In a land where it's fuck your side, feel
Deal, real raps be the program
Eiht Dub-C, be a summer jam
Hood with the first, g'eah loc one hunnid
One of the West's best, motherfuckers don't want it
Too hard mo'fuckers, West up
Wife beater, bandana and a paper cup
Fo' deep, two hats to the back
One shooter on deck, when the beef gon' crack g'eah

[Chorus]

[MC Eiht]
Me and my girlfriend, been tight since grade school
Lesson for the day, get paid fool
Yeah nigga, pay in full
Bullshit on the mic, so the strap get pulled
Nigga never waste time, when it come to the grind
All day keep it West, DJ rewind
Eiht and Dub-C real hood loc, take it back
Golf hats, eight ball in the Cadillac
Down the block low rats, in the next lane
Where the hood cellophane, earrings match the chain
No pain no gain, make it rain
So strange no change, ay just stay in my lane
Funny niggaz on the mic, check they vocals
If it ain't hood with the speech, go loco
Psycho, like the motherfuckers you could tell
Me and my niggaz Dub-C, rap for real g'eah

[Chorus]

(*talking*)
My nigga Brenk Sinatra on the beat
Beat em down loc
Because, they had said that we was
Smoking all his fire, shit
We was just bad to the bone, we was gangstas