Lyrics The Chronic - The Game, Ad, AV

The Chronic

I let the impala ass scrape, one blunt in my ashtray
And you can go ask Dre, see what he got to say
About the Chronic, the Chronic
We get money the fast way, give bitches the gassed face
Don’t wait 'til the last day, to see who got the deals
On the Chronic, the Chronic
Compton, California born and raised nigga
Remember all them days nigga
Chillin' with the homies, shootin' dice, catchin fades nigga
Little niggas out here on this corner gettin' paid nigga
Did some shit but we gon' take these secrets to the grave with us
I did it all nigga, runnin' from the law nigga
Life behind the bars nigga, and make collect calls nigga
Selling dope and gang banging, I was trynna' ball nigga
Everybody come up, and nobody wanna fall with us
Every night I had a dream I made it out the hood
They see these lights and these cameras and think we got it good
You either gang bang, rap or sell drugs nigga
Welcome to the Hub nigga, it’s Compton
I let the impala ass scrape, one blunt in my ashtray
And you can go ask Dre, see what he got to say
About the Chronic, the Chronic
We get money the fast way, give bitches the gassed face
Don’t wait 'til the last day, to see who got the deals
On the Chronic, the Chronic
Compton, California since I was a youngin'
Banging through the speakers, reminiscin 'bout them old days
Grinding hard, on the come up, tryna get it
When we ran into Xzibit now a young nigga know Dre
Know Game, know K. Dot
Hard love, I ain’t even gotta name drop
Like I got an addiction, because I can’t stop
Every time I hear a record when the base drop, bang
Wack, you shouldn’t have never gave me this beat
Stat, you should have never gave me this beat!
I’m a Comp-town Crip, I’m goin' crazy in these streets
One time for my 'Rus goin' brazy in these streets on the hood
Yeah, yeah, better heard me in the club
Niggas think that I lost it
Ballin hard on these records, my triangle office
You can ask Battlecat
Who the youngin that be coming to the ref school?
Pharmacy, one of the best spittin on the hood
You can ask Pooh
Just left loose compound
Cuz I’m hanging on the Westside, don’t get knocked down
It’s cool, I don’t do it for the props now
Need help, I just call up the Doc now
I let the impala ass scrape, one blunt in my ashtray
And you can go ask Dre, see what he got to say
About the Chronic, the Chronic
We get money the fast way, give bitches the gassed face
Don’t wait 'til the last day, to see who got the deals
On the Chronic, the Chronic