Sangtekst: Conejo. Fallen Angel. Planet Los Angeles.

[Police officer]
We have in Los Angeles cities about 50,000 gang members and 150,000 wannabes

[Conejo]
Live and direct from Planet Los Angeles
Weed, pills, crack, coke, speed, heroin
Anything you want I got your fix
My eyes stay low, watch your back

Critically acclaimed is all I claim
Drug cartels wanna sell my name
Homey serio, you get hooked like that
Tidal wave coming at you about to sink your raft
This is it, how the West was won
Shaking down all the busters, my word is my bond
In these cinematic streets kingpins and all
Bake a broke ass vato wanna rob them all
I'm on some deep shit if you have any doubts
I'ma flood them with the obvious, my rocks and my clout
I'ma reign supreme in your fatalist dream
Biographical blueprint of a dope fiend scheme
My voice distinct, I'm a lyrical marksman
You run down my alley and my dogs start barking
I said homey don't try to cross mine
No man has succeeded, find them dead on mine

Everywhere I go it's the Devil's playground
Ese vatos being caught, ese vatos being shot
And that's all going down while the city sleeps
So they say, so they say
Don't believe what you hear

Controversy has been predicted
Unforeseen complications, the times are really wicked
Guns blazing, I got work late
My dogs hit it off, bitch vatos get sprayed
Watch the caile, these some pit fights
You get covered in beams by some infared murder lights
What the fuck, you know the rules
Ain't no rules on the street, lame riders get fooled
It be official, these circumstances
Baby got no feria so she gave lap dances
Spark joints laced with weed and coke
I install deadly rhymes in the form of sand storms
Gatos, ese extasy waits
In the street corners for the underground tapes
Urban chaos, it be the sickest
Run around and one, I'ma put you on my hit list

Slight careful with that axe dog
You got the touch of death and you just don't know it
Nobody's home when the feds come knocking que no
Fuck the motherfucking pigs
That's right, watch out

Step back homey, don't wanna smack your ass
With a steel desert eagle, rather blast your ass
Vocabulary tight, you bite you die
My method of accounting make the feria multiply
Chin checking enemigas up and down the coast
Kicking in real slow like the effects of dope
Controlled substance copywritten in blood
Fuck this dope fiend bitch, got her smoking my bud
Now I'm back in the grave that you buried me in
Ese out by twenty fifth ese commiting more sin
Let's get down so I can make you buckle
Ain't no rules in a fight so I grip brassknuckles
Decision final, last round last bout
Young ex-con ese flexing my clout
Then I opened my eyes and I saw it all
Now I stay paranoid like I've been hitting the pipe

I know you vatos can't comprehend the angle that I'm coming at you
See I got camaradas that sit infront of Ice Castles all day
Snorting their life away, my world is a ghetto
Live and direct from Planet Los Angeles
Los Angeles, Los Angeles