Don’t Call Me

Windows down in the middle of the night,

Palm trees leaning in the yellow light.

I got the rhythm and I got the gold,

Young and I'm living, never getting old.

(Hey, hey, Mustard on the beat)

Cruising down the strip, feeling like the man,

Everything's moving exactly as I planned.

Bass in the trunk making everything shake,

Real ones only, no room for the fake.

It's the bounce, it's the bass, it's the West Side high!

Throw your hands up, reach for the sky!

(Bounce, bounce!)

Every city, every street, yeah they know the sound!

West Coast groove when we come to your town!

(Mustard, Mustard!)

Check the rear view, see 'em trying to keep up,

Top floor living, never saw the come-up.

I keep it simple, keep it clean like the shoes,

Winning so much, I forgot how to lose.

(Hey, hey, check the flow)

Walking in the room, making all of 'em stare,

Fresh cut fade and the breeze in my hair.

You can hear the knock from a mile away,

West Coast party, every night, every day.

It's the bounce, it's the bass, it's the West Side high!

Throw your hands up, reach for the sky!

(Bounce, bounce!)

Every city, every street, yeah they know the sound!

West Coast groove when we come to your town!

(Mustard, Mustard!)

Don't stop, just keep that rhythm going...

You know where we at, you know how we doing it...

(Hey, hey, just bounce with it)

Yeah, from the beach to the hills...

Just keep that motion in your soul.

Yeah. West Coast. Mustard. We out.

(Bounce, bounce)