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The Game - Streets Of Compton Album Lyrics



The Game - Streets Of Compton Lyrics






Support Compton

[Game:]
I grew up off of Wilmington and Rosecrans
Where nigga's drink 4-0 cans and throw it up with both hands
Support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga
Support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga
I'm from where them niggas in the trenches
Sit back, get they hair braided and analyze Kendrick
Support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga
Support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga
I kick it where niggas do drive-bys all day
And bought a pair of Beats just because they f*ck with Dre
We support Compton, support Compton, support Compton
We support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga

[J3:]
I grew up off of Rosecrans and Central
Tam's Burger on the corner, slip up and get your issue
Drum fully loaded, probably catch 'em walking
Die for your name, get a blue or a cherry coffin
Pray for the homie moms, why she had to lose her son
We gon' make 'em pay the price for what they done
Organized crime, go on a mission weekly
187, man-down completely
Grew up off food stamps and swim through blood baths
Sheriffs hop out, point guns, searching your nutsacks
Support Compton, support Compton, support Compton
That's what Crips call it, but 'round here this Bompton
I ain't politicking, I ain't sneaking dissing
I'm really for my section, creeping up Wilmington
With my locs concealing weapons
F*cked with K. Dot back when he had the waves
And been supporting games since the Aftermath chain
Support Compton

[Game:]
I grew up off of Wilmington and Rosecrans
Where nigga's drink 4-0 cans and throw it up with both hands
Support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga
Support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga
I'm from where them niggas in the trenches
Sit back, get they hair braided and analyze Kendrick
Support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga
Support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga
I kick it where niggas do drive-bys all day
And bought a pair of Beats just because they f*ck with Dre
We support Compton, support Compton, support Compton
We support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga

[Payso:]
It started in Martin Luther King
Pocket of the Crip
Before I knew anything
Married to the block
Pinkie ring for my wedding ring
Yeah we right here on Nord Street
The hood core street
I be in the hood, you ain't gotta force me
And I just thank God my momma didn't abort me
Cause she was only fourteen
But that's a different story
Whole family's running frutas and they support me
The Pirus support me, the Crips support me
Your bitch support me, hit a lick just to support those that was for me
My nigga Frogg was for me, D-Rock was for me
Niggas phony but I know my niggas watching for me
Cause I done had some close cases
Wrong time, right places
My life, I ain't finna let 'em take it
My mind, I ain't finna let 'em take it
From El Segundo to Rosecrans
They know who run the program

[Game:]
I grew up off of Wilmington and Rosecrans
Where nigga's drink 4-0 cans and throw it up with both hands
Support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga
Support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga
I'm from where them niggas in the trenches
Sit back, get they hair braided and analyze Kendrick
Support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga
Support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga
I kick it where niggas do drive-bys all day
And bought a pair of Beats just because they f*ck with Dre
We support Compton, support Compton, support Compton
We support Compton, support Compton, support Compton nigga

They be like "Dre ain't from Compton
Cube ain't from Compton"
You niggas dumb
I be the type nigga to ask them niggas asking where they from
Yeah I be trippin', de-boning niggas
Cruising through the hood like f*ck you
C-lo them niggas
'64 in my garage, only drop the top on Saturday
Reminiscing to 96 when I was running through a rat a day
Compton High with the A.I braids
Over the Summer came with Junior Seau waves
Compton ain't shit, get a nigga f*cked up and jumped
Race riots with the ese's but that ain't what you want
Red and blue bandanas knotted at the front
Welcome to the home of the pistol grip pump
Compton
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JAYCEON TAYLOR
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Roped Off

Compton Boulevard, Wilmington
Rosecrans, Central
Don't get this motherf*cker roped off
Don't get this motherf*cker roped off

Compton Boulevard, Wilmington
Rosecrans, Central
Y'all gon' get this motherf*cker roped off
Y'all gon' get this motherf*cker roped off

Posted on Brazil and Wilmington
Red flag, red khakis, red Pendleton
Cold steel got 'em trembling
Stomp a nigga out (In what?) in my Timberlands
Red dot on your head, nigga
Either you work at 7/11 or you dead, nigga
Your auntie stay around here but you don't
Your cousins might make it out the hood, but nigga you won't
Fresh out the barber shop, RIP to G man
West Side Bompton, my city's been on C-SPAN
My hood's been on CNN, my hood's been on watch
My city's in the middle of Long Beach and Watts
I'm at the Tam's Burgers, eating fries
Now how many niggas done died eating number 5?
Been shot a couple times, but I'm alive
Hub City hustler, I'll show you how to survive, nigga

Compton Boulevard, Wilmington
Rosecrans, Central
Don't get this motherf*cker roped off
Don't get this motherf*cker roped off

Compton Boulevard, Wilmington
Rosecrans, Central
Y'all gon' get this motherf*cker roped off
Y'all gon' get this motherf*cker roped off

Wear Chucks, don't gang bang, I f*ck baddies
I'll show you how to stuff 100 P's in turkey baggies
Rubber gloves, dark spray, no khakis
Riding steel, tell Jesus fall flabby
L's come bro I'm relapsing to the old days
In and out of spouses, middle manin' and the cocaine
Finger on the trigger 'cause niggas ain't trynna fight
And bitches ain't shit, so niggas ain't trynna wife nothing
Who needs love? Million dollar weed plugs
Heart cold as Sunset, RIP to Key Club
Hoes never ease up, D2B
Nigga thought he was a foolie 'til he seen me!
West Side baby, ain't tripping off nothin'
Going out a winner like Peyton
Still 100, like Daytons, gold or the chrome
Same 'til a nigga gone like Martin and Jerome

Compton Boulevard, Wilmington
Rosecrans, Central
Don't get this motherf*cker roped off
Don't get this motherf*cker roped off

Compton Boulevard, Wilmington
Rosecrans, Central
Y'all gon' get this motherf*cker roped off
Y'all gon' get this motherf*cker roped off

Aye man, just tell God come and lift me
Come and talk to the devil, man this nigga stay busy
Don't ever get it twisted, just 'cause we don't wear Dickies
You ain't heard of Mossberg, you know you ain't from the city
Man, I was born in this problem
We thought we knew the answer way before we seen options
Do you know the feeling to have niggas out watching
With your kid out shopping, you gon' still yell "Bompton!"?
Man, I done lost hope
Hope you a Thug to the Bone when we Cross Roads
Too many RIP shirts around your turf, wait
We trying to figure why y'all got mid in the first place
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, know my niggas on the wait
Wait, wait, wait, know somebody finna pay
Finna hit Stanford, man I just left the A
We don't recognize your car, you ain't coming in the gate
On West Side Bompton

Compton Boulevard, Wilmington
Rosecrans, Central
Don't get this motherf*cker roped off
Don't get this motherf*cker roped off

Compton Boulevard, Wilmington
Rosecrans, Central
Y'all gon' get this motherf*cker roped off
Y'all gon' get this motherf*cker roped off
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JAYCEON TAYLOR, JASON MARTIN
Copyright: Lyrics © Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Hit The News

40 ounces ain't the only thing poppin'
'Round here we get it clockin' when the things start knockin'
Low lows ain't the only thing droppin'
Bodies hit the ground, tires screeching niggas yell "Compton!"
Like ooh, ooh
Them niggas hoppin' out of coupés, coupés
F*ck you thought nigga? They tryna' overuse the shotty
Shit I'm tryna' hit the news with the shotty

I am from where the niggas say "What'd up Cuh?"
You can get your ass wet up by "One Blood?"
And I bet they just saw El Chapo
And you can get your noodles spilled right up in your taco
And you can get your taco turnt into some nachos
All over cheese my nigga
What's beef my nigga? Ridin' by slow mo
Bullet holes in Caine and Sharif my nigga!
F*ck peace my nigga! Cause every time we try that
We get smoked by police my nigga
I am bringing sheets my nigga
Went from being skinny and gettin' jacked for my Penny's to a beast my nigga

40 ounces ain't the only thing poppin'
'Round here we get it clockin' when the things start knockin'
Low lows ain't the only thing droppin'
Bodies hit the ground, tires screeching niggas yell "Compton!"
Like ooh, ooh
Them niggas hoppin' out of coupés, coupés
F*ck you thought nigga? They tryna' overuse the shotty
Shit I'm tryna' hit the news with the shotty

I want the zooms zooms and wam wams, bricks in the Trans Am
Shooters on first, second and third, that's a grand slam
These rap niggas Fruit Loops; Toucan Sam
When I say so, bloods rush like a handstand
And ain't with that old Death Row shit
Been bangin' since '94, I ain't never did no hoe shit
Type of nigga I am, empty out the whole clip
Call my YG's and have em' run through your whole shit
Who was before Kendrick, who was before Nip?
Middle of the Slauson, did my shit fighting four Crips
You win some and you lose some nigga
You break knuckles and you bruise some nigga, what?

40 ounces ain't the only thing poppin'
'Round here we get it clockin' when the things start knockin'
Low lows ain't the only thing droppin'
Bodies hit the ground, tires screeching niggas yell "Compton!"
Like ooh, ooh
Them niggas hoppin' out of coupés, coupés
F*ck you thought nigga? They tryna' overuse the shotty
Shit I'm tryna' hit the news with the shotty
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Taylor Jayceon
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Bullshit

Ay who got all these niggas walking around
With all this motherf*ckin' air in they chest?
Oh, you pumpin' your motherf*cking self up, huh?

You know I'm with the bullshit, ay
You know I'm with the bullshit
Niggas know I'm with the bullshit
You know I'm with the bullshit

Pull up, park the Camaro like an arrow
Only f*ck with Snoop, nigga f*ck your cousin Harold
Plus I got the barrel on tuck, nigga what
First nigga jump up, first nigga f*cked up
I'm with the bullshit, Jimmy Butler in the cutlass
Hop out, get yo ass beaten, no mustard
Hood full of killers, Cedar Block, no busters
Say we gon' do it, but we ain't, don't trust us
Get your ass robbed out here
By a nigga name Rob out here with no job out here
We with the bullshit, Burgundy sob out here
Get smoked if ever say slob out here
Nigga this Piru, I'm advertising like a commercial
Hand me your hood pass, pat you down then murk you
Nigga we still mad Doughboy killed Virgil
Blood this ain't no motherf*ckin' movie

You know I'm with the bullshit, ay
You know I'm with the bullshit
Niggas know I'm with the bullshit
You know I'm with the bullshit

40 days, 40 nights
If I ever lose a muthaf*ckin' fight
You in the pen', say good night
Get your ass strangled with the motherf*ckin' kite
I am with the bullshit, save them motherf*ckin' tears
You bunk down with the nigga that ain't had pussy in years
He with the bullshit, f*ck you gon' go?
Nigga where the f*ck you gon' go when he made you his hoe
Now you switchin' in the pen
Through the glass talking to your mama, bitchin in the pen'
Ohh you snitchin' in the pen?
Your lawyer stuck you on the pen', nigga just stick you in the pen' (ohh)
My nigga Reek doing 30
And I got gun that he did murder with, it's still dirty
And I heard from a little birdy, niggas wanna problems
Jump in my Impala, skrrt!

You know I'm with the bullshit, ay
You know I'm with the bullshit
Niggas know I'm with the bullshit
You know I'm with the bullshit
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Taylor Jayceon
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Cant Wait

I got a bitch named Soo, I got a bitch named Woo
And they twins, can't wait till I can f*ck em' again
Can't wait, can't wait
I got a bitch named Soo and a bitch named Woo
And they twins, can't wait till I can f*ck em' again
Can't wait till I can f*ck em' again, can't wait

My little bitch named Soo', that's my Woo
She like to play hide and seek inside my coupe
When I pull up, she like to hop out the roof
And I put that on my hood, I love eveything that she do
She a cougar, she 38, I am 36
Bitch got bodies on her, yeah new dirty bitch
That bitch mean, always up in my jeans
And inhale fire, ain't no in between
She a ride or die bitch, I swear, swear to God
If you walk around with her gon' feel like in the mob
Yeah, this bitch married to the game
And I don't leave without her and a pocketful of change
We gon' get rich together
She's bi-sexual, we gon' f*ck a bitch together
Sixteen in the clip', she got her shit together
This shit is forever

I got a bitch named Soo, I got a bitch named Woo
And they twins, can't wait till I can f*ck em' again
Can't wait, can't wait
I got a bitch named Soo and a bitch named Woo
And they twins, can't wait till I can f*ck em' again
Can't wait till I can f*ck em' again, can't wait

My little bitch named Woo, she be trippin'
She ain't got no time be playin' with the niggas
She always runnin' off at the mouth
She get high, she can burn a hole in the couch, ooh
She be killin' niggas when she's dressed
That's why I always handle her with love and finesse
Unless I bout to finger bang
Her sister get jealous, that's when my finger change
Both of them my bitches
Yeah, both of them my bitches
Both of them my bitches
Both of them my bitches
I let my enemies kiss her
I let my enemies kiss her
Then I hop up in the Benz' with her
I don't give a f*ck that they twin sisters

I got a bitch named Soo, I got a bitch named Woo
And they twins, can't wait till I can f*ck em' again
Can't wait, can't wait
I got a bitch named Soo and a bitch named Woo
And they twins, can't wait till I can f*ck em' again
Can't wait till I can f*ck em' again, can't wait
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: MICHAEL CHAMBERS, LASHAWN AMEEN DANIELS, DEBORAH HARRY, RODNEY JERKINS, HARRY PALMER, LAWRENCE PARKER, CHRISTOPHER STEIN, JESSE WEST
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, MUSIC SALES CORPORATION




Gang Signs

When the gang sings go up
You see your life flash right before your eyes
And you know what
That's how it is on the west side
When the gang sings go up
So many of my niggas died
Better watch what you throw up
Niggas talking all that shit
But when the gang sings go up
You see your life flash right before your eyes
And you know what
That's how it is on the west side
When the gang sings go up

Dear God, I now know what I've done
Through my thoughts and my actions
And the things that I've said
Sometimes by mistake and sometimes on purpose, Amen
Got my mind on this murder, and promise so ganged up
Got a black Mac 11 and it hit like a Mac truck
Product of bad luck, play it out on that movie screen
And to scope with some killers, almost die for moving green
My mama a fella, my daddy so long gone
My grandmama died at 18, left me all alone
All I got is my guns, bandanas and weed
Leave me with 2 dead brothers, my enemies gon' bleed
I'm messed up, suicidal, rest in peace to Hayes
Wasn't no killers where my niggas seen some better days
That California have you stressed out, a million ways to die
Gotta pull that vest out

Cause when the gang sings go up
You see your life flash right before your eyes
And you know what
That's how it is on the west side
When the gang sings go up
So many of my niggas died
Better watch what you throw up
Niggas talking all that shit
But when the gang sings go up
You see your life flash right before your eyes
And you know what
That's how it is on the west side
When the gang sings go up

F*ck niggas gon' die, speaking homicide
Laid out in the street, let his mama cry
White chalk, black streets
Red rack, coke killer, watch 'em leak
Black on black crimes
Killing our own brothers
But what the f*ck can we do
When you got on the wrong colours?
Take a breath, inhale, let it go, lights off
Have a problem, hit the switch, lay it low
Soon as you walk out the crib, we gon' blast
Hit the 110 and now the one time on your ass
In 4 minutes, you thought that you got away with it
Thought that shit was a dream, let us pray

Cause when the gang sings go up
You see your life flash right before your eyes
And you know what
That's how it is on the west side
When the gang sings go up
So many of my niggas died
Better watch what you throw up
Niggas talking all that shit
But when the gang sings go up
You see your life flash right before your eyes
And you know what
That's how it is on the west side
When the gang sings go up
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JAYCEON TAYLOR, DERIC ISAACS
Copyright: Lyrics © MISSING LINK MUSIC




Unfollow Me Bitch

[The Game & (Problem):]
Problem struck a match and the match went out
Car pool full of hoes (Diamond Lane in the house)
You know I be lovin' them, f*ckin them, f*ck all the kissing and hugging
I'm thugging nigga, it's The Game in the house
Baby girl with the dominos, set up the table for the homie
Said here go 100, we hungry, so order Domino's (f*ck yeah!)
Sit on my lap, let me, rub on your back
(Do what you want with it) Don't you tell a nigga that
She trying keep the score, her girlfriend sleep on the floor
Off Ciroc and the PARTYNEXTDOOR (bitch here)
We good is it for 'em to come
If the homies can't (get-get-get-get-get, get some)

[The Game:]
Girl you need a thug in your life, thug in your life
Girl you need a thug in your life, thug in your life
Girl you need a thug in your life, thug in your life
Girl you need a thug in your life, you need a thug in your life

[The Game & (Problem):]
18 to auntie's, chochies in them panties
Hood fly nigga with bread in all me pantries
Take her to the crib and get her Netflix on
Till she get me neck licks with my necklace on
F*ckin' bling on you baby, you bad girl
Them leggin' pants complementin your ass girl
Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa
And on that note, my nigga Game where you at
I heard you got it back, 'sup with that?
(In a bathroom nigga, bout' to break a bitch back)
Ooh-wee, I wish I was you
I am bout' go to find our crew
What! Turn up! Gone! (Oh shit!)

[The Game:]
Girl you need a thug in your life, thug in your life
Girl you need a thug in your life, thug in your life
Girl you need a thug in your life, thug in your life
Girl you need a thug in your life, you need a thug in your life
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: DERIC ISAACS, JASON MARTIN, JAYCEON TAYLOR
Copyright: Lyrics © MISSING LINK MUSIC




The Chronic

[The Game:]
I left the impala astray, one blunt in my ashtray
And you can go ask Dre, see what he got to say
About the Chronic, the Chronic
We get money the fast way, give bitches the gassed face
Don't wait 'til the last day, to see who got the deals
On the Chronic, the Chronic

[AV:]
Compton, California born and raised nigga
Remember all them days nigga
Chillin' with the homies, shooting dice, catch a faze nigga
Little niggas out here on this corner gettin' fade nigga
Did some shit, but we gon' take these secrets to the grave with us
I did it all nigga, run it from the law nigga
Life behind the bars nigga, and make collect calls nigga
Selling dope and gang banging, I was tryna ball nigga
Everybody come up, and nobody wanna fall with us
Every night I had a dream I made it outta hood
They see these lights and these cameras and think we got it good
You either gang bang, rap or sell drugs nigga
Welcome to the hub nigga, it's Compton

[The Game:]
I left the impala astray, one blunt in my ashtray
And you can go ask Dre, see what he got to say
About the Chronic, the Chronic
We get money the fast way, give bitches the gassed face
Don't wait 'til the last day, to see who got the deals
On the Chronic, the Chronic

[AD:]
Compton, California since I was a youngin'
Crowd banging through the speakers, reminiscin 'bout them old days
Grinding hard, on the come up, tryna get it
When we ran into Xzibit now a young nigga know Dre
No Game, no K. Dot
Hard love, I ain't even gotta name drop
Like I got an addiction, because I can't stop
Every time I hear a record when the base drop, bang
Wack, you shouldn't have never gave me this beat
Stat, you should have never gave me this beat!
I'm a Comp-town Crip, I'm goin' crazy in these streets
One time for my roots goin' brazy in these streets on the hood
Yeah, yeah, better heard me in the club, niggas think that I lost it
Ballin hard on these records, my triangle office
You can ask Battlecat
Who the youngin that be coming to the ref school?
Pharmacy
One of the best spittin on the hood, you can ask Pooh
Just left loose compound
Cuz I'm hanging on the Westside, don't get knocked down
It's cool, I don't do it for the props now
Need help, I just call up the Doc now

[The Game:]
I left the impala astray, one blunt in my ashtray
And you can go ask Dre, see what he got to say
About the Chronic, the Chronic
We get money the fast way, give bitches the gassed face
Don't wait 'til the last day, to see who got the deals
On the Chronic, the Chronic
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Deric Isaacs, Jayceon Tayler
Copyright: Lyrics © MISSING LINK MUSIC




Like Me

7:46, wake up, hand on my dick
Lakers lost by 30 last night, I'm talking shit
Roll up a Backwood, killer in my spliff
Reading GQ magazine while I take a shit
Walk back to my room, wake up this bitch
Kickin' her out, dick in her mouth, that Compton shit, boy
I'm on that monster shit, boy
Chopper out the trunk, on some Compton shit, boy
I remember flipping dimes and shit
Putting five to them planes, that La Bamba shit
Dr. Dre ain't got time for this, he wearing Beats
I got my ear to the ground, lil' nigga, I'm in these streets like
Streetlights and lead pipes, up in the projects
We gon' make it out but this shit is a slow process
Lean right, keep heat tight, don't ever digest
Hollow tips where your mind rest, you forgot

They don't make niggas like me
Nah, they don't make niggas like me
They don't make niggas like me
They don't make niggas like me
Wassup

I'm that nigga that sold packs by the bungalows
Animal out here, my niggas in the jungles know
I'm cold like one below in Green Bay
Had the water on the block, to the fiends I was a stingray
I had a Z before I seen Jay
I had the West, I used to sling yay
But sometimes when tables turn like a DJ
Had them rocks and them bands like Green Day
I used to listen to, Project Pat tote straps and sell crack
Used to smoke that Bobby Brown, f*ck rats and sit back
On my forte, was more yay, my enemies got gift-wrapped
The two nicks in two days, got new fits and new Js
Thankful for my two Ks, my vision clear as Blu-ray
Kill your ass today, knock the glue off your toupée
My guns like "hi", leave that shy shit to Lupe
Then chop the top off the coupe, doomsday

They don't make niggas like me
Nah, they don't make niggas like me
They don't make niggas like me
They don't make niggas like me
Cook crack nigga
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JAYCEON TAYLOR
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Songtrust Ave




Death Row Chain

I was just a young nigga on the block
Just a young nigga on the block
Said I was just a young nigga on the block
Just another young nigga on the block
Suge signed Pac, it was good cause I f*ck with Dre
Straight out of Compton was a product of N.W.A
But shit everything change when Ice Cube went solo
Riding shotgun in my brother Fase Lolo
On my way to school, having shoot outs with the cholos
If it wasn't them, we getting jacked by the popo
In the tenth grade smoking weed on the low though
My momma ain't know though back of the class
With a Source magazine just flipping through the photos
F*ck with Reasonable Doubt but not when Pac was on the road though
In 1995 I started to bang
And I would do anything for one of them Death Row chains

A nigga would do anything for one of them Death Row chains
A nigga would do anything for one of them Death Row chains
A nigga would do anything for one of them Death Row chains

Even though he was born on the East, Pac was accepted here
Especially rocking that chain with that electric chair
I set back and watched him, threw up the West side
As Suge, Pac, Snoop and Dre hit the cover of the Vibe
'96, it was on
I took a Death Row sticker then slapped it on the chrome
Riding down Rosecrans with my hand on the toast
Stuck at a light, bumping "2 of Amerikaz Most"
I used to spray it on a locker, a nigga run up
I yell, "Death Row!" and sock him and I kept a gun tucked
Selling weed with my nigga Sonic
All we used to listen to was Doggystyle, All Eyez on Me and The Chronic
Then a couple Long Beach niggas changed the game
Daz and Kurupt, nigga, f*ck O-Dog and Caine
But when Dr. Dre left, shit wasn't the same
And I would've did anything for that nigga Death Row chain

A nigga would do anything for one of them Death Row chains
A nigga would do anything for one of them Death Row chains
A nigga would do anything for one of them Death Row chains

Dre started Aftermath and found Em
Eazy-E died from AIDS but why him?
Snoop signed to P, Suge signed Left Eye
Death Row fell apart, what happened to the West side?
I used to smoke and just sit in the truck
I was forced to bang Biggie and Puff
I was mad at niggas, felt Death Row ain't give us enough
And for that we ain't giving a f*ck
The whole coast split it up, now Dre in New York working with Nas
And Pac stomping niggas out inside the mirage
I saw it on the news and I knew it was on
They say the look on Pac face, nigga knew he was wrong
Knew he was gone, stomp the nigga two minutes long
Know I'm repping West side, putting you in the song, damn
2Pac got smoked by Baby Lane
And both of them niggas dead over a f*cking Death Row chain

A nigga would do anything for one of them Death Row chains
A nigga would do anything for one of them Death Row chains
A nigga would do anything for one of them Death Row chains
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: David Brewster, Eliot Peter Phillip Dubock, Daniel Garcia, Jayceon Terrell Taylor, Francis Ubiera
Copyright: Lyrics © CYPMP




For The Homies

Said I wake up in the morning
Spark one for the homies, they dead and gone, but I
But I'm never ever lonely
To your memory, my nigga, to your memory, my nigga
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no
They dead and gone, but I
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no
They dead and gone, but I

'Lil Frogg, nigga, I miss you
Your momma still wish she could kiss you
I talked to all the homies, yeah, all the homies
Swear that day we wish that we was with you
I remember when I first rolled up
Seen you laid out there on Rosecrans
It was Cedar Block and if you read about us
We was throwing that shit up with both hands
Make me wanna hop back in that old van
Take an Olde E and sip the whole can
But I'm out here, with your brother and your pops
All night, my nigga, I ain't got no plans
Your mom's out here having a fit
Big Frogg and the truck niggas sick
All the homies on the block getting lit
Putting everything they can into a clip
Yeah, to the street, it wasn't even Crips
Some of the homies trying to blame a bitch
Cause he was riding on sky today, he died
Wrong place, wrong time, nigga f*cked up shit
But your funeral ain't nothing but love
Look around, it ain't nothing but Bloods
And let me tell you what a bitch nigga did
Took a good daddy away from seven kids

Said I wake up in the morning
Spark one for the homies, they dead and gone, but I
But I'm never ever lonely
To your memory, my nigga, to your memory, my nigga
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no
They dead and gone, but I
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no
They dead and gone, but I

Still riding around through the city looking for an enemy
Still riding around through the city thinkin' 'bout all the memories
Thinking back like God damn
All them niggas really really livin me
Wishing I knew what I knew now
Half them niggas wouldn't have been next to me
Nowadays, ain't too many niggas next to me
None of these bitches getting next me
I seen what it did to a good friend
That was God trying to lecture me
That was God trying open me
That's when God got close to me
I went through the fire, went through the pain
Now it's all hope for me
Now it's designer, in the ghost that they chauffeur me
My haters is mad, oh you know, they didn't go for me
They wish I was gone, they wish in the song somebody wrote for me
But I got the goat in me, I got the truth in me

Said I wake up in the morning
Spark one for the homies, they dead and gone, but I
But I'm never ever lonely
To your memory, my nigga, to your memory, my nigga
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no
They dead and gone, but I
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no
They dead and gone, but I
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JAYCEON TAYLOR, UFORO EBONG, PAYSO ., MICAH POWELL, ARMAND DOUGLAS
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




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