Lyrics U Know Why - MC Eiht

U Know Why

I ain’t stupid yo
Motherfucker ran with the game
See a gang of fumes rose watching the choir sing
Say my nigga, he was good for the hood
Two shots caught him slipping, in his place he stood
We going to stick the script, but this ain’t no act
Record Sales are the work, man bring on stacks
Way back in the days when we caught Jags
Couple years after they introduce crack
Bred mac with them hood rats on 1580
They was haters back then, motherfuckers was shady
Bitches were kinda feisty, enemies was sheisty
Wannabe MCs trying to out-rhyme me
Please don’t fight my gen no more
Imma kick in the door and squeeze the 44
And y’all quick to float if you’re quick enough
Man the shots do burn, so don’t act tough
So when the shots get to ranging out
You Know Why
And y’all done stopped all that hanging out
You know why
You ain’t real what you sing about
You know why
That’s why you biting for the paper route
You know why
Fools be fake and gold plated
You know why
And I don’t see how y’all made it
You know why
Why we got to kill them off, Eiht?
You know why
Man these fools got us twisted and it’s way too late
I love pot and photos that show your gang folds
I wonder how you look when the casket closes
Compton all day.
#1 West City
And when we bang coolest, boy, shit ain’t pretty
Niggas do dirt and get soaked with SAs
We even catch you slipping up on your best days
And I love West girls man, they love thugs
And I love hotties snug out of town with drugs
Fuck a police mugshot, shoot up a block
Fuck a neighborhood watch man, sell them a rock
When they knock at the door man, flush it all down
And quickly send it off back out of town
8 seconds to the truck boys, all it takes
Two shots to the side, don’t slam your brakes
When the neighborhood get through, all of you wakes
Compton on top through and all it takes
Grown man in the coup, boy, don’t play games
Any motherfucker drops when the pistol aims
We don’t call out names, fool, we fight in the club
When we blow chronic smoke, it’s more than it does
Big ass bitch won’t buy ego rough
That heart-piece is filled and crushed and snubbed
Imma shoot one-one and shots kill you softly
The second shot’s to back your ass up off me
Fuck around lose your shiny valuables in a scuffle
Fake motherfuckers caught up in the Hollywood shuffle
But they don’t muffle the sound all over South Central
Drive-by mentality, shoot out the rims
You ain’t got to go to the East to get your G-Unit
West Coast gang unit, vest shoot right through it
You punk motherfuckers d-don't d-don't do it
Compton till I die, boy, thought you knew it