| Yeah, we just ridin' out. |
| Sun shinin', ya dig? |
| Los Angeles, ya dig?
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| We just keepin' it real fly. |
| Welcome to the house mane. |
| Aye what’s up? |
| Look
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| It’s just another sunny day
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| I’m just pokin' in the sunny shade
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| Walked in the homie’s house got blazed
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| How does it feel to really have it made?
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| When it’s winter time it’s still summertime
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| Let me rewind and take it back to '89
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| Eminem is up in Englewood
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| When a nigga barely left the hood
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| We didn’t two step, we just walk
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| We just posted in the park after dark
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| It’s just me and the fellas
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| Just got off the freeway passin' Cinsinella
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| Now
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| Let’s go to '95
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| I was glidin' from the ground to the sky
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| You could only be there and see if through my eyes
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| We was crispy
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| And might knock niggas the fuck out like Jack Dempsey
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| When we tipsy
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| Now on to 2009
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| Revised, reprise, reinvented
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| Octopus squeeze the nine cause I got’s to get all mine
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| I got a fortess of a Porsche
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| Two feet from my driveway and my porch
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| Can you imagine this ballin', shot callin', all in
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| Wakin' up to a mountain in the back
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| About 55 stacks
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| Hidden underneath my mat-
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| -tress
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| And I can tell you cuz, if you come on my premises
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| I’m gonna show you how I flambe all my lyricists
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| Fricassee fry cook, charcoal and crisp
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| Provide everyone that intervene and miss
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| The warning sign is on the front of my fence
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| «Beware Of Dog» and I ain’t talkin' about a pit
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| I’m talkin' about that cold contra chrome stack hog
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| I spit toxic effective like ninjutsu and kick boxin'
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| Fuck talkin'
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| I’m sparkin', I’m heartless
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| Unless
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| You one of my folks or else get toast
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| I turn it easy on you niggas, somebody smoked
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| Don’t fuck around with a real nigga loc
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| «Cause I’ve got»
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| Chrome nines
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| «Cause I’ve got»
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| Real shine
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| «Cause I’ve got»
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| Fly cars
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| «Cause I’ve got»
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| Hood star
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| I ride by the Pico, Roscoe, street full of potholes
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| Bout to get something to eat, if they not closed
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| Sellin' incense and bootlegs out front
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| Old pimp nigga with the toupee is on one
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| He goin' off about a bitch that he lost
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| Charge it to the game, it’s a shame what it cost
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| I walk in and they already know me
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| Dude at the counter from the hood, he the homie
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| Keep a menu, I won’t even front
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| Just show me to my seat cause I know what I want
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| I started off with Alicia’s Delight
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| Hard as grease from the feast I just might need a Sprite
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| All eyes on me and they starin' at my hair
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| Is that dude from MTV over there?
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| Yeah, but I grew up on this side
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| So you need to quit starin' bitch this ain’t a side show
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| And if she don’t quit talkin' shit
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| Hold up, here my waitress, so I’ll order up some…
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| Grits
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| Which is my favorite dish
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| With some red beans and rice cause I’m hungry as shit
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| A couple waffles, some other potatoes
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| Finally off tour, it feels great to be home
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| Picked up my phone cause this chick just texted me
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| Ain’t five minutes and the food’s all ready
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| I feel like I ain’t eat in weeks
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| Attack the food like the plate got beef
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| But no meat cause I’m still on my veggie shit
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| Finished all my food so I’m ready to dip
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| I stroll out into the California moonlight
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| I can see the stars in L.A. that’s a cool night
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| I hear shots in the distance
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| The little homies trippin', that’s that Mid-City livin'
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| They got that heavy artillery
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| But on the real, all this gang shit is killin' me
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| Chaos, calamity, scream insanity
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| Communities collapse, destruction of family
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| I’m from a whole 'nother planet see
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| I guess it’s why these rap niggas ain’t understandin' me
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| I’m from the hood with a couple dead homies
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| You trippin' off this rap shit, you really don’t know me
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| «Cause I’ve got»
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| True friends
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| «Cause I’ve got»
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| A few ends
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| «Cause I’ve got» |