| Here’s another day at the stoplight
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| I’m lookin' in my mirror so I can see who can see me
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| South Central is puttin Ice Cube to the test
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| With four brothers in the SS
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| I can’t go around and can’t back up
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| So I gotta peep game layin' in the cut
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| Is this a jack or a kidnap?
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| Since I’m never ever slippin', I’m fully strapped
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| I grab my gat out the glove
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| Do these fools got a problem with me, or do they got love?
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| And when the light turn green, I don’t bone out
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| I wanna see what these black men are all about
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| Cause if it’s my time, I’m just short
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| If not, I’m pluggin they Super Sport
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| First they get behind my ride
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| Then they switch lanes to the left side
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| I’m scopin' out the one smokin' indo
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| Comin' up fast, rollin' down his window
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| He threw up a sign, I put away my nine
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| Fool, cause I’m color blind
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| Killa Cali, the state where they kill
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| Over colors cuz brothas don’t know the deal
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| And they’ll cap you, not if they have to
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| But if they want to, first they might confront you
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| But every nigga on my block can’t stop
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| And he won’t stop and he don’t stop
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| Not to the bang bang boogie, but they like to gangbang
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| And rookies ain’t the only ones that drop
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| Some say the little locs are gettin a little too loc’ed
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| And when it comes to dust, they kick up the most
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| Say the wrong word
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| Then whistle down the street to your homies like a bird
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| Bust a u-turn, come back and get served nigga
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| For the women, it don’t matter how loud they blouse get
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| But men, the wrong color outfit, could get your mouth split
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| It’s a shame, but it ain’t no thang to me
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| Cuz I slang these thangs like a G
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| It’s on, is anybody killin' for the summertime
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| I gotta get another nine, even though I’m colorblind
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| I’m fresh outta county on bail
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| And no sooner do I get out, seems like I’m right back in jail
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| For some gang related activity
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| Cuz everyday, different fools try to get with me
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| For no more than a color, or territory
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| Can’t rehabilitate 'em, that’s the sheriff’s story
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| So what’s left, the judge goes deaf
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| When you try to tell your side
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| And you ain’t blue eyed
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| Boy you better duck cuz the book is comin'
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| And just hand your car keys over to your woman
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| Because it ain’t no sunshine where you headed
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| And the shit’ll drive you crazy if you let it
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| But now, I got time to think
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| Because they hit me with everything but the kitchen sink
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| And I ain’t even shed a tear
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| Cuz believe it or not, they got more love for me here
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| Now picture that, but on a black and white photograph
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| Cuz brothas, you don’t know the half
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| On the streets I was damn near outta my mind
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| But ever since I’ve been down
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| I’m colorblind
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| Now here’s the game plan, yo, at a quarter to nine
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| I was told to peel a cap on the other side
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| Yo, Young and dumb and full of cum, I’m a baby loc
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| I gotta put in work for the hood and that ain’t no joke
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| Stable and able but I’m not ready and willin'
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| Cuz I’m only 13 and I ain’t never did a killin'
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| Grabbed the A.K. |
| and jumped in the G ride
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| Started up the bucket and headed for the other side
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| Yo, spotted the enemies, now I’m on a creep tip
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| Hit the 5 dollar stick and I put in my clip
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| So, I jumped out the car and no matter what the cost
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| I had my mind set on sendin niggas to Harrison Ross
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| Caught one from the back and I looked in his eyes
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| Thinkin' should I peel his cap, or should I let him survive?
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| Yo, I’m trapped in the plan designed by the other kind
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| I ain’t contributin' to genocide (why?)
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| Cause I’m colorblind
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| Niggas in the hood ain’t changed
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| And I’ve finally figure out that we’re not in the same gang
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| Cuz, I walk the alleys of Compton with nowhere to turn
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| Every which way I get burned
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| Baby Lou wears blue, Big Fred wears red
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| Put 'em together and we color 'em dead
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| Dead, dyin, gettin smoked’s like part of the fun
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| They get smoked just to show how many come to the funeral
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| I understand how all my homeboys feel
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| Cuz I been shot; |
| to this day, I pack my steel
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| Cuz I was born in a certain territory
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| Where you don’t talk, only the streets tell stories
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| With blue and red bandanas on the street
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| And if you slippin, you’ll be six feet deep
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| Cuz me and T-bone, we pay it no mind
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| And for the rest of the mob, we stay color blind |