| «Let 'em in»
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| «Johnson, you’re different from the other colors in here»
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| «You read books, play chess, write poetry»
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| «But I don’t believe you have any regret whatsoever for taking a man’s life»
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| «Man recognizes his mistakes is ready to seek God’s forgiveness»
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| «Yeah, I read your bible, warden»
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| «And?»
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| I was raised in compton, What the fuck, Cuzz'?
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| A nigga in the hood is always stuck
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| I’m tryin ta chase dead prez like Larenz Tate
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| But do it in dog mind-state
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| It’s 187 on whoever don’t stop
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| Throw away the strap right after the pop pop
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| Then ride shotgun, Pass me the handgun
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| I still yell out compton, Shoot and run
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| 2 is double the trouble
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| Double up the work on game gon bubble
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| Couple of loco’s from the westside, Homes
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| Dope in the coolo, Hand on chromes
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| One-time, Hoodrats, And beef wit the enemy
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| Niggas puffin so much, We smoke like a chimney
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| Little b.g.'s mane, Givin us the scoop
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| 4 deep, Tryin to creep, Lights off in the coupe
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| We squash that in a jiffey
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| Creep up and shoot in the car just like 50
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| Click go empty, And it’s back to the block
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| Cause CPT boys so hard knock
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| Lock up the work, Sell what it’s worth
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| From the days of way back, The days of my birth
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| I’m so damn cold
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| One blunt in my hand, My bitch in a chokehold
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| The hood taught me lessons that can’t be told
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| Whatever you push out, I’ll come back eightfold
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| Sold out? |
| Never, It’s compton forever
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| No one can do it better
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| Geah, I doubt that
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| When the guns come out, Y’all could go flat
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| Now you could fuck all the chat and get a rat-a-tat-tat
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| Pat down ya pockets like we did in high school
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| You represent the hood, Always the first rule
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| I been all around the globe
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| Hop doggin for the hub like my name was kobe
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| Sirens, Flashlights, stroll lights
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| One-time, They never stop at a gunfight
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| 2 compton motherfuckers
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| Geah, G-g-g-geah
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| It’s 2 compton motherfuckers, 2 compton muh’fuckas
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| Geah, G-g-g-geah, G-g-g-geah, Nigga
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| It’s 2 compton motherfuckers
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| G-g-geah, G-g-geah, 2 compton motherfuckers
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| Strapped, Come out, Fall to ya knees
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| A blunt get lit then you beg a nigga please
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| One squeeze, I could silence the weeds
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| Another victim how the story reads
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| I needs no praise, Compton I was raised
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| Just bump some of my shit bitch and just blaze
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| Gimme a hit, Tilt, Yeah nigga what’s crackin?
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| Some play too big, Nigga what’s the actin?
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| I start callin out names
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| And commence to rob yo ass like Jess James
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| Me and Tha Chill backseat Boom Bam
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| 3 the hood way, So nigga god damn
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| Slam, Dub dub dub
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| Let the gangstas run it in the fuckin hub
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| Wit a slug nose, a little penleton
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| Gauranteed to shoot the club up right before it close
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| It’s compton muh-fucka, G-g-geah, G-g-g-geah
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| It’s compton muh-fucka, Geah, It’s compton, G-g-geah, G-g-g-geah
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| It’s compton muh-fucka, Geah
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| Want it gang, G-g-g-geah, It’s compton muh-fucka
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| Gotta fuckin get it, Geah, G-g-g-geah
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| I’m comin straight outta compton most wanted grimy nigga wit a attitude
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| 6 shots still standing, I’m well known for mashin fools
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| I get in the blues with or without the true
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| Bitches screws loose and I just use from outta ya shoes
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| Busta, ya street punks ain’t ready for Big
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| 2 D-A and MC Eiht, You’re under dig
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| 2 compton muh’fucka from compton muh’fucka
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| This to the westside these boys poppin muh’fucka
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| Like german pistols gon be rippin through ya tissue
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| It’s real in the city, Little homies’ll get you
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| Fuckers, When the guns come out, Y’all niggas better run
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| Cause i’m a soldier at war and this is where i’m from
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| The land of the lost wit me, Gotta protect ya own
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| And get hit wit the buck thangs, Homie
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| Drive through dealin at the funeral home
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| Call Adams or Palmer, ya dead and ya gone
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| Muh’fucka
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| 2 compton muh’fuckaz, Geah, G-g-g-geah
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| It’s 2 compton muh’fuckaz, G-g-g-geah
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| G-g-geah, 2 compton muh’fuckaz, It’s 2 compton muh’fuckaz
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| Geah |