| And now, the wonderous world of.
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| Hey, come to Los Angeles!
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| Where you and your family can have peace and tranquility
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| Enjoy the refinement.
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| Hey Bone, hey nigga where you at though?
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| Hello, my name is Elaine
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| And I’ll be your tour guide through South Central Los Angeles
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| How to survive in South Central (what you do?)
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| A place where bustin a cap is fundamental
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| No, you can’t find the shit in a handbook
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| Take a close look, at a rap crook
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| Rule number one: get yourself a gun
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| A nine in your ass’ll be fine
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| Keep it in your glove compartment
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| Cause jackers (yo) they love to start shit
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| Now if you’re white you can trust the police
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| But if you’re black they ain’t nothin but beasts
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| Watch out for the kill
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| Don’t make a false move and keep your hands on the steering wheel
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| And don’t get smart
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| Answer all questions, and that’s your first lesson
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| On stayin alive
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| In South Central, yeah, that’s how you survive
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| Hi, this is Elaine again
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| Are you enjoying your stay in South Central Los Angeles?
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| Or has somebody taken your things?
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| Have you witnessed a driveby?
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| Okay, make sure you have your camcorder ready
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| To witness the extracurricular activities on blacks by the police
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| So you and your family can enjoy this tape, over and over again
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| This is Los Angeles, this is Los Angeles
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| Rule number two: don’t trust nobody
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| Especially a bitch, with a hooker’s body
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| Cause it ain’t nuttin but a trap
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| And females’ll get you jacked and kidnapped
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| You’ll wind up dead
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| Just to be safe don’t wear no blue or red
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| Cause most niggas get got
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| In either L.A., Compton or Watts
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| Pissed off black human beings
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| So I think you better skip the sight-seeing
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| And if you’re nuttin but a mark
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| Make sure that you’re in before dark
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| But if you need some affection, mate
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| Make sure the bitch ain’t a Section 8
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| Cause if so that’s a monkey-wrench ho
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| And you won’t survive in South Central
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| Now you realize it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be
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| You realize that it’s fucked up!
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| It ain’t nothin like the shit you saw on TV
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| Palm trees and blonde bitches?
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| I’d advise to you to pack your shit and get the fuck on, punk motherfucker!
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| And you’ll get your ass straight smoked
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| Yo I wanna say whassup to DJ Chilly Chill, Sir Jinx
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| Aiy’yo Cube these motherfuckers don’t know what time it is
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| So show these motherfuckers what’s happenin'
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| Tell these motherfuckers, don’t fuck around in South Central
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| God dammit!
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| Rule number three: don’t get caught up
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| Cause niggas are doing anything that’s thought up
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| And they got a price
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| On everything from dope, to stolen merchandise
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| Weed to sherm
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| Cause South Central L.A., is one big germ
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| Waitin for a brother like you to catch a disease
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| And start slangin ki’s
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| To an undercover or the wrong brother
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| And they’ll smother, a out of town motherfucker
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| So don’t take your life for granted
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| Cause it’s the craziest place on the planet
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| In L.A., heroes don’t fly through the sky of stars
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| They live behind bars
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| So everybody’s doin' a little dirt
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| And it’s the youngsters puttin' in the most work
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| So be alert and stay calm
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| As you enter, the concrete Vietnam
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| You say, the strong survive
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| Shit, the strong even die, in South Central
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| Yeah you bitches, you think I forgot about your ass you tramp-ass hoes?
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| You better watch out
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| And for you so called baller-ass niggas, you know what time it is
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| South Central ain’t no joke
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| Got to keep your gat at all times motherfuckers
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| Better keep one in the chamber and nine in the clip god dammit
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| You’ll sho' get got, just like that
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| This ain’t no joke motherfuckers
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| Now I wanna send a shout-out to E-Dog, the engineer
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| Puttin' his two cents in
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| This is Los Angeles |