[Intro] “Street Science, you’re on the air. What do you feel when you hear a record like 2Pac’s new one?” “I love 2Pac’s new record” “Right, but don’t you feel like that creates — ahh— tension between East and West? I mean, he’s talking about killing people, ‘I had sex with your wife’ — and not in those words. But he’s talking about, ‘I wanna see you deceased’..."
[Verse 1: 2Pac Makaveli] To live and die in L.A., where everyday we try to fatten our pockets Us niggas hustle for the cash so it's hard to knock it Everybody got they own thang, currency chasin' Worldwide through the hard times, worrying faces Shed tears as we bury niggas close to heart Who was a friend is now a ghost in the dark Cold hearted bout it, nigga got smoked by a fiend Trying to floss on him blind to a broken man's dream A hard lesson Court cases keep me guessin' Plea bargain ain't an option now, so I'm stressin' Cost me more to be free than a life in the pen Making money off of cuss words, writing again Learn how to think ahead, so I fight with my pen Late night down sunset liking the scene What's the worst they could do to a nigga? Got me lost in hell To live and die in L.A. on bail My angel sing
[Hook: Val Young] To Live and Die in L.A., it's the place to be. You've got to be there to know it, everybody wanna see. (Repeat)
[Verse 2: 2Pac] It's the City of Angels and constant danger South Central L.A., can't get no stranger Full of drama like a soap opera, on the curb Watching the ghetto bird helicopters, I observe So many niggas getting three strikes, tossed in jail I swear the pen right across from hell I can't cry cause it's on now I'm just a nigga on his own now Living life thug style So I can't smile Writing to my peoples when they ask for pictures Thinking Cali just fun and bitches Better learn about the dress code, B's and C's All them other niggas copycats, these is G's I love Cali like I love women Cause every nigga in LA got a little bit of thug in him We might fight amongst each other... but I promise you this: We'll burn this bitch down, get us pissed To live and die in LA Let my angel sing
[Hook]
[Verse 3: 2Pac] It wouldn't be L.A. without Mexicans Black love, brown pride and the sets again Pete Wilson trying to see us all broke I'm on some bullshit out for everything they owe Remember K-day? Weekends, Crenshaw, MLK? Automatics rang free, niggas lost they way Gang signs being shown, nigga, love your hood! But recognize and it's all good Where the weed at? Niggas gettin' shurrmed out Snoop Dogg in this muthafucka permed out M.O.B, Big Suge in the Lo-Lo, bounce and turn Dogg Pound in the Lex with a ounce to burn Got them Watts niggas with me, O.F.T.B They got some hash, took the stash, left the rest for me Neckbone, Tre, Herron, Big Buntry too Big Rock got knocked, but this one's for you I hit the studio and drop a jewel, hoping it pay Getting high, watching time fly: to live and die in LA Let my angel sing
[Outro: 2Pac] This go out for 92.3, and 106 All the radio stations that be bumping my shit Making my shit sells katruple quitraple platinum This go out to all the magazines that support a nigga All the real motherfuckers All the stores, the mom and pop spots A&R people, all y'all motherfuckers L.A., California Love part motherfucking two Without gay ass Dre