| Just like bums, we used to stay in the slums of LA by the way | 
| Gang-bangers killin' each other for rep, sellin' rock cocaine on my doorstep | 
| Had a ball to bounce plus a bike to ride, but my mama never would let me play | 
| outside. | 
| But when I got enrolled in elementary school, started bangin' like a fuckin' | 
| fool. | 
| So cool, throwin' up gang signs to the gangster beat, shot an enemy from across | 
| the street | 
| Mama came home, said she got a good job. | 
| Daddy did too. | 
| Now they don’t squab. | 
| Financially, we improvin'. | 
| 2 months later, son, we movin'. | 
| No more duckin' from shotgun shells. | 
| Bought a two-story house in East Palmdale. | 
| (give it to me now.) | 
| Palmdale, come back to me. | 
| I need you and I love you, baby. | 
| Palmdale, come back to me. | 
| (Check it out, check it out, check it out.) | 
| No more rats and no more roaches, livin' next door to football coaches. | 
| Now I got a new place to sell me crack. | 
| Now I got little white kids to jack. | 
| I stopped wearin' blue, wasn’t trippin' on red. | 
| Too busy squabbin' with the | 
| skinheads. | 
| Stupid questions, distract the class. | 
| Rubbin' little white girls on the ass. | 
| I didn’t really care if I passed or failed, I knew I was headed for the NFL, | 
| Until the playoff game, shoulder got hurt. | 
| I thought about my future, | 
| layin' in the dirt. | 
| I can’t jump, I can’t flinch. | 
| Superstar player, ridin' the bench. | 
| Graduate from school? | 
| Don’t make me laugh. | 
| I got an F+ in basic math. | 
| (give it to me now.) | 
| Palmdale, (Hell, yeah.) come back to me. | 
| I gotta do one song for my neighborhood. | 
| Bucccoooc! | 
| Palmdale, come back to me. | 
| (check it out.) | 
| I knew I couldn’t make it in the white man’s world, so I bought me some khakis | 
| and a Geri curl. | 
| I knew I couldn’t make it to the NFL, so I went to East Palmdale and started | 
| slingin' yayo. | 
| For sure! | 
| I was makin' crazy dough. | 
| Should’ve dropped outta school a long time | 
| ago. | 
| Bought a cell phone, like a nut. | 
| Now I deliver like Pizza Hut. | 
| I drunk whisky and Bacardi. | 
| I sold dope to anybody. | 
| Me and my homies sold dubs and dimes, took turns bustin' rhymes just to pass | 
| the time. | 
| A white man drove up to my spot. | 
| He said, Hey, homeboy, what you got? | 
| I put a fat rock inside his hand. | 
| About 25 sheriffs jumped out the van. | 
| (Get down, punk.) | 
| Palmdale, (Hell, yeah) come back to me. | 
| I need you and I love you, baby. | 
| Palmdale, come back to me. | 
| (check it out, check it out, check it out.) | 
| Can’t get drunk. | 
| Can’t get blunted. | 
| LA County, 95 hundred. | 
| Crips wanna take my All-stars. | 
| Bloods wanna eat my Snicker bars. | 
| Them peckerwoods don’t want none, but the Mexican’s straight own one. | 
| Them Ese’s, Catorces, Treces, always tryin' to test me | 
| So I jumped off the bed, cause I ain’t no punk. | 
| Jammed his head up against the | 
| bunk. | 
| Socked that Cholo in his chin. | 
| Black mother-fuckers scared to jump in. | 
| Sheriff broke it up when we hit the floor. | 
| I kept talkin' shit cause I want | 
| some more. | 
| Back in town, we get along with the brown. | 
| Now I’m in jail, they tryin' to beat | 
| me down. | 
| Jail is hell, but I’ll adapt. | 
| Won’t hesitate to get in a scrap. | 
| 'Cause I’m down for mine, and that’s for certain, sittin' in the hole with my | 
| knuckles hurtin'. | 
| (Palmdale) | 
| Palmdale, (Hell, yeah.) come back to me. | 
| I need you and I love you, baby. | 
| Palmdale, come back to me. | 
| (check it out, homeboy.) | 
| Now I got a fucked up life. | 
| Two bad kids and a naggin' wife. | 
| Dead end job at the airport. | 
| Check too short to pay the house note. | 
| Turn on the TV, then I see different homeboys that went to school with me | 
| Playin' in the NFL. | 
| We used to kick back in East Palmdale. | 
| Rodney Williams. | 
| Lorenz Tate. | 
| Zeno plays for Colorado State. | 
| I wish my homeboys much success, but at the same time, I still get depressed. | 
| Walkin' through the wind with a cup full of gin thinkin' 'bout things that | 
| could’ve, would’ve, should’ve been. | 
| I wipe my tears, sip my beers, wish good luck to my peers. | 
| (Palmdale.) | 
| Palmdale, come back to me. | 
| I need you and I love you, baby. | 
| Palmdale, come back to me. | 
| Cause that’s where my heartache began, heartache began. | 
| Palmdale, come back to me. | 
| I need you and I love you, baby. | 
| Palmdale, come back to me. | 
| Cause that’s where my heartache began, heartache began. | 
| Palmdale, come back to me. | 
| (Hey, all the homeboys on the football team, where y’all at?) | 
| Palmdale, come back to me. | 
| (Hey, wherever you at in the world, I don’t care if you in Japan, Africa | 
| hey, you know how we used to do it, man. | 
| Hey, hey, hey.) | 
| Yo, let me get a Palm (Palm!) | 
| Yo, let me get a Dale (Dale!) | 
| Yo, what do we sell? | 
| (YELL!) | 
| Yo, where we fittin' to go? | 
| (We fittin' to go back to jail!) | 
| Dale. | 
| Palmdale. | 
| (Hey, everybody just clap your hands.) | 
| Dale. | 
| Palmdale. | 
| (C'mon, c’mon, c’mon. Buci-buci-bucccoooc!) | 
| Dale. | 
| Palmdale. | 
| Dale. | 
| (Where them Falcons at?) Palmdale. | 
| (It ain’t over 'til the fat man sings.) | 
| Dale. | 
| (Little Rock can’t get none. What, what?) Palmdale. | 
| Dale. | 
| Palmdale. |