| Slug in your burden brain
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| Niggas heard of me
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| From here to eternity
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| F*ck hell cause I can feel the Earth burn in me
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| Now we can meet, we can greet, we can see, we can eat
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| We can hold court in the street
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| Whatcha wanna do?
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| I just ate, it’s a quarter to 8
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| I’m in Section 8 with MC Eiht and a 38 (yeah)
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| And I’m ready to ride for this shit
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| Muthaf*cka done invested his life in this shit
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| And we ain’t losin' rather take a penitentiary chance
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| And ?? |
| your house like some blue and red ends
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| Make you dance like Holyfield
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| And we’ll rob you like Lennox Lewis
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| And you can’t do nuthin' to us (nuthin')
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| Spent my life with the West Rollies
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| A few of 'em still gangbangin in they 40's, what
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| Violatin parolies
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| Ye-ye-ye-e
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| Gangstas make the world go round
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| And stayin' down in the Y-2-K
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| That’s what they say
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| It’s Hoo-Bang muthaf*cka and we don’t play
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| Eiht, Cube and Mack: III tha hood way, geah
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| I said…
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| Mack 10 is the lick, West Side is the click (yeah)
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| I can’t get enough of this gangsta shit
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| So I drag my 5−7 down the shores and the skate
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| ??? |
| play some vibrate for humpin' Section 8
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| I stay G’d up and down, it’s the bumper when it’s late
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| With my hair bitch-braid sportin' murder one shades
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| It’s the heat bringer, king Inglewood swinger
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| And f*ck every nigga that ain’t a Hoo-Banger (Hoo-Banger!)
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| No color lines make dimes, it’s color blind
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| And I ain’t trippin' cause your rag ain’t bright as mine
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| Let’s rock T-Birds up, sew up the place
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| Get on the paper chase and let us smoke our free base
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| I’m a straight go-getter, grinded till I’m rich
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| I stay down and dirty and screamin' f*ck a bitch (f*ck you bitch!)
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| Me, Eiht and Don Mega off the hook together
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| It’s III tha hood way and Hoo-Bang forever, what
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| Three niggas, three time felons with three strikes (yeah)
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| Three times equal 9's, khakis and knives
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| Roll on swings as I bumps the flashlight
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| Nice off I flip to the hard, my shit’s tight
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| Small nigga in the backseat with Loc’s
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| Tryin' to come up on cash cause we downer at last
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| Gun smoke, my tramp 8's start to spittin'
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| Put the hood I scream loud, give a f*ck who I’m hittin'
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| WEST SIDE Compton, Hoo-Bang' fo' sho'
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| Put they work for my G’s, six feet below
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| The murda show, muthaf*ckas ride with me
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| There’s one life to live so I cops the key
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| Once upon a time in the projects with heat
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| Slangin' my shit: you don’t work, you don’t eat
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| You can take this boy out tha hood
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| But you can’t take the hood out a nigga
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| Hand stays on the trigga, geah
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| III tha hood way ye-yey (fo' sho')
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| III tha hood way ye-yey (for the 9−9 fool)
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| III tha hood way ye-yey (you know how tha f*ck we do it)
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| III tha hood way ye-yey (Hoo-Bangin' fo' life!)
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| Yeah (geah)
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| Geah
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| The Compton shit
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| MC Eiht (tha criminal shit)
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| For your ass
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| Ice Cube (dumpin' out the Trey)
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| Dumpin' out the Rag seven
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| Mack 10 (givin' yo' ass just what you need)
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| That thug shit
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| West Side Hoo-Bangin' gangstas
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| Compton fo' life
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| Geah
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| Babeeee… |