Lyrics: PANDA
Music: PANDA
Arranger: PANDA
Westside resurrection, Dre's prescription... let it ride
Low rider dreams cruise through palm tree seams
Sunset's my collider, streetlights my guidance beams
Concrete jungles whisperin' ancient schemes
Where every shadow's got a story, every pothole's got a scream
Top down, bass thumpin' through the 310
Cali love in my lungs, OG sage in my spleen
We don't chase paper, we mint the scene
From Compton Creek to Venice Beach - it's all my regime
Gold chain meteor shower (Westside power!)
Convertible clouds when we tower
Where palm leaves bow to the G-crown
We paint sunsets with diamond sound
Blueprint architect with a chrome plated tongue
Turn sidewalk cracks into platinum-rung lungs
My speakers birth hurricanes, subwoofers push tectonic plates
Studio alchemist - turn streetlights to 24k tapes
From asphalt classrooms we learned verb conjugations
Where survival's a haiku, death's just punctuation
Now we stack libations where there once was starvation
Digital prophets rewriting the nation's narration
"They said the ocean don't remember footprints..."
But we built castles where tides quit!
"They said concrete can't grow vineyards..."
Watch us press trauma into wine, then ignite it!
Turntable galaxies spinin' gold every week.
Drop-tops levitatin' when the bassline leaks,
Westside scriptures carved in the chrome-plated streets.
Ash to ambrosia, scars to scripture—no debate, ya!
The chronicles don’t end, they just reload on replay.
If the rhythm’s your religion, let the bassline ordain ya:
Westside forever—where the asphalt meets infinity!