[Intro – Spoken, laid-back tone] Yeah... Sunset bouncin’ off the chrome, Hydros hissin’, tires glide slow... This that real Westside, No cap, just soul. --- [Hook 1 – Female, soulful] We ridin’ thru tha sun, lowriders in the breeze, Candy paint drippin’, feel that West Coast ease, Golden sky above, but the streets still talk, Stay real, stay fly, never fake that walk. --- [Verse 1] I cruise through the streets, everything shines in chrome, ’64 Chevy – sittin’ on a throne. Shadows dancin’ on the pavement like wings, But I stay focused – no time for flings. Palm trees like soldiers lined on the side, Beat hittin’ heavy, like the bass inside. Kids with dreams behind window panes, But their hearts pump funk – ain’t nothin’ tame. --- [Verse 2] Westcoast blood – it’s deep in my veins, G-Funk medicine easin’ all my pains. Lowrider glow with the bounce in sync, Every bar’s a story, written in ink. Talkbox whispers like angels in smoke, Orange sky above, but the street still spoke. Every crack in the concrete got tales to tell, And my flow’s that flame – hot as hell. --- [Hook 2 – Female, smoother variation] Still cruisin’ in the sun, West vibes in the air, Smoke trails behind, but we ain't got a care, Chrome hearts and dreams, we don’t run we ride, With the West in our soul, we forever glide. --- [Verse 3] Rearview shows ghosts, but I keep on rollin’, Beats in my lap, and my thoughts patrollin’. For the homies we lost, we carry the name, In the wind, in the bars – through the rhythm and flame. California speaks through synths and bass, Every block got a sound that leaves a trace. I don’t write hooks for clout or fame, I spit raw truth – no filter, no shame. --- [Bridge – slower, storytelling style] Hear the echo of the blocks in the night, From Compton to Frisco – we share that light. Every line a prayer, every bar a vow, The street never forgets – only shows you how. --- [Hook 1 – Reprise, Female Vocals] We ridin’ thru tha sun, lowriders in the breeze, Candy paint drippin’, feel that West Coast ease, Golden sky above, but the streets still talk, Stay real, stay fly, never fake that walk. --- [Verse 4 – Final Verse] I write bars like murals in L.A.’s lanes, Colors of Bloods and Crips – both got pains. Mic in my grip, eyes locked on the road, Even without a crown, I’m in king mode. Vibes run deep like the Venice tide, And my heart stays true, no place to hide. No ghostwriters here, just funk and light, This sound don’t die – it rides through the night. --- [Outro – Female Vocals + Talkbox] Don’t stop... just ride... We never say goodbye... only roll on... Talkbox: Wesssst coooaast… …forever fly…

Ridin thru the Sun