| Geah
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| Thug shit, check this out
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| Compton, geah
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| I don’t think they heard me on this one
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| I said: Compton, nigga!
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| That’s how we doin it
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| Regulating for all the gangstas
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| West Side, nigga, Hoo-Bangin' Gangstas, you know I’m sayin'
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| Check this out
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| I said I dig into yo' body, you catch the flatline
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| Compton, where we from, nigga?
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| Compton, all day, nigga
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| We gon' start it like this
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| Check this out
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| Way back 4−4's seven years in the pen
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| .38 with wooden handles and a fifth with gin
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| Let me begin, before the days of committin sins
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| I was a lil' knucklehead getting courted in
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| Till I die C.P.T., y’all can’t budge me
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| Kill a nigga for the neighborhood, can’t judge me
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| I’m lettin' the fire spit, y’all fools catchin' some slugs
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| I regulate, servin' you way that straight thug
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| You know if you’re slippin' you get laid up in the mud
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| Take over your spot, pushin' china white and bud
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| The devious, the mind blowin', the over-throwin
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| Christmas everyday in the hood, I keep it snowin
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| It’s hot like that where I’m from
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| You bitches tryin to test, you meet the M-1
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| From sun up, nigga, to sun down
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| I pull out, your gat go down
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| Bitches, I run town, what up?
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| Geah
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| I said I dig into yo' body, you catch the flatline…
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| Y’all start runnin' and screamin' and pushin'
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| And yellin' and slippin' and duckin'
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| When you see the Tec-9 buckin'
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| Stagger them motherfuckers, make em wish they hid
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| Spittin, call me the ghetto fuckin' Billy the Kid
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| You be layin on your back tryin' to catch yo' breath
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| Life starts to flash, now you’re nearing death
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| What’s left, bitch? |
| You see the Glock starts tickin'
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| Die, as I blast one more you stop kickin'
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| Flee the scene to my next to akin
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| Call back to the house, so they fly in ends
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| Just made a real close trip to the pen
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| And in another town I start the same trend
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| I sets up shot cuz your ass is done
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| Hoo-Bang all day, my uzi weighs a ton
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| Ain’t no fun if you don’t want none
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| Ricochet off your shoulder blade, nigga, you’re numb
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| C’mon, geah
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| My mind got me caught in a twist, I can’t cope
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| I reminisce on the days in the hood slangin' dope
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| Certain territories yo' ass couldn’t float
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| And if you caught slippin', then fool, that’s all she wrote
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| I like the life while dippin' blocks with heats
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| I’m ready in a second to stop yo' heartbeat
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| Fuckin' around in the hood, smokin' with hoes
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| Violators hit the blocks, we hittin' the floors
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| Y’all ain’t caught us slippin', only wasted your ammo
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| We dips back through, dumps with the 4−4
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| Hollows come out the dark chamber
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| Express my anger, never run from danger
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| Servin mo' yayo, dash from the ranger
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| Die by the hand of the unknown stranger
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| My position is stick, situation is thick
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| I ride with real muthafuckas and hit licks
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| The Compton lunatic, way too sick
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| Conflict you pick, hear the 9 click, c’mon
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| Geah
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| Compton gangsters all day
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| Hoo-Bangin' affiliates
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| You catch the flatline |