Straight Outta Compton [compilation] (2010) by Various Artists (보컬) on maniadb.com

We got a problem Houston, not Marques Houston or his little rapping side kick, we got a real mutha f**kin' problem. And its only gonna be one of these songs, after that ima knock your mutha f**kin' ass out.

Verse 1

Bitch niggas get put in the coffin with all that psychopath talking, you listening to the source and I ain't from boston, I'm gang banging, wear G-6's call em' how I see em', these niggas is bitches, and clue put this nigga on a song and now its g-unit, and I came to get it on, you ain't hot, nigga you look warm, ill hog tie your ass with g-unit shoes on, you had pump it up that was a koo song, you only sold 10 records nigga now move on, talking about you got ratchets and tools on when you was at the all-star game with no jewels on, I cant believe I gave you dap, with the 45 on me I should of gave you that, pistol whipped you laid you flat, jump off buddens nah, disgrace to a yankee hat, and its time to state my biz, only nigga pushing rocket jersey is jason kidd, you a phony nigga I'll erase your wig, have you running to the church like Mason did.

Chorus

Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens

Verse 2

You don't know me fool, to diss me on dj clue, I don't need no assistance to dig you a ditch, and any problem I got I just put my clip in, you fake like janet's titty, one call 300 bloods in atlantic city, you bad boy then dance like diddy, I give celebrity beat downs, I bring the camera with me, on that mixtape shit you knew my man was 50, and I keep something chrome in them tanish dickeys, smoke niggas like a gram of sticky, and I know my way to harlem ill take you to bransons with me, come to Compton you'll vanish quickly, I got niggas in the hood that'll kill you for a can of Mickey's, gangs of L.A. we never die, and we'll let hollow tips fly at Joe


Chorus

Verse 3

I drive through the desert storm kick up dust, red and blue rags hanging out of pick up trucks, get banks on the phone, nigga hit young buck, tell em' we got a problem with this dumb f**k, you was just in the city of angels in the W lobby in the presence of gangsters, I'm the nigga that'll beat you with the stainless and leave you alive so you can run and tell stain bitch, I got niggas in jersey that'll hang you, im a los angeles king with new york rangers, and you lucky yayo got that beeper on his ankle, joe budden is a true definition of a wankster

Chorus

Outro

This nigga try to act like he ain't know what the f**k he was doing, you knew what you was doing nigga, stop lying to the f**kin' people nigga, gone jump on a freestyle nigga on that fly shit, try to diss g-unit nigga, and im on the f**kin' first verse, you aint slick nigga, I caught that shit like a mutha f**kin' greg maddox fast ball nigga, 50 get dre on the phone, see if that nigga remember what joe buddens second single was, 'cause I don't. I took a survey in the hood nigga, went to the projects asked bitches if they feeling your shit, they was like no, haha, I went to the hood asked niggas if they was feeling your shit, they was like no, than I went to jersey, caught me a f**kin flight man took my last 500 dollars man, flew to jersey, asked niggas in jersey if they like your shit, they was like no, so I said f**k it, ima take this nigga mutha f**kin head off. blackwall street, aftermath, g-g-g-g-unit. you know what it is nigga and you know where to find me

(feat. Blue Chip)

(The Game)
I'm from Compton where them guns bust, watch Poppa George pop
Cats tellin jokes at them car games
Seen big face hundreds, handle the rock like Nate Archibald
What? This nigga only sixteen
And I wanted to be, just like him, middle school fightin
Any nigga with a chip on his shoulder, whattup nigga?
You want beef with me? Now I let the heat speak for me
No more talkin, just outline chalkin
Nigga Witta Attitude from birth, "100 Miles and Running"
Gunnin bustin shots like fuck the cops
Notorious for burnin blocks, weavin in and out of traffic and chop
Game the young Robin Hood of the block
Steal from the rich, give to the poor, coward niggaz rock
Second comin of this black Alfred Hitchcock
Kick in the door, wavin the four-four
Ten shots to your spleen, let them violins sing

(Chorus: Blue Chip + (The Game))
Yo, I'm just a ghetto nigga stuck in this game, young'uns runnin with 'caine
Rain hits so we floodin the game
When you come to Compton respect the grounds, leave you shook man
(And I look good, from Compton to Brooklyn)
Hey yo I don't give a fuck who you are, fuck ya ice
Fuck the block that you claim, fuck your Bentley Azure
(Dead presidents is all I represent)
('Til y'all met me y'all niggaz ain't met gangsta yet)

(The Game)
Fast cars, money and muscle, the hustle I was brought up in the 80's
Gangbangin, dope traffic, shit get crazy
From where niggaz grow up hard like dicks raised
Them hustlin guns like Knicks players, we got mouths to feed
'Til they put flowers on me, moms kiss my cold cheek
In that pine box, I'm buyin rocks, eyein cops
Fuck a cell block, the young kid makin it happen
Who you think got them fiends runnin back like Bo Jackson?
I'm a gangsta, what else could I say?
I'm ahead of myself like it's Y4K
2Pac, Scarface, N.W.A.
Taught me how to dodge them bullets, keep my wig in play
Keep fo' snug in the waist or pay a thousand to have 'em
Niggaz in the street move faster than, Michael Jackson's album
But the shit don't really matter to me, we get better G
Bet the four slow 'em down like PCP

(Chorus)

(The Game)
Real gangsters never talk shit, handle they business
Fuck the dry snitchin and bitchin, niggaz die when them bullets fly
Who fuckin with him, ha? Not a nigga alive
End up dead in that 5
He got no sympathy for them dead guys, friend or foe
Watch that chest cave in, what that vest savin?
Make it sloppy for the autopsy, leave my enemies in a frenzy
On the frontlines holdin a 9
Everyday a new chapter, my own niggaz plottin on me
Tryin to hit me but they won't get me, feel the semi first
Fuckin with my dough, is the worst way to go
Y'all know, niggaz cry when them bullets burn slow dummy
In and out of spots watchin my money
If one dollar come up missin bodies start to come up missin
No one too heavy for the Expedition, piss on your corpse
Watch your soul shiver, throw him in the river, bitch nigga

(Chorus)

Uhh, uhh, gangsta gangsta yeah
Uhh, uhh, it's gangsta gangsta yeah
Uhh, uhh, shit I'm livin gangsta gangsta shit
Yeah

(Chorus: repeat 2X)
I'm from Compton, Compton, Murderville
You heard these niggaz is gangsters, and they kill
Rob and steal, my niggaz will peel at will
For real they real, niggaz gon' feel this steel

(The Game)
Walk with me through the ghetto where the packs get sold
And them niggaz sellin the work ain't half as old
as the fiends and the hippies, same ones smokin since the 60's
Everybody yellin gimme, gimme
Every nigga in the hood, one hand on his jimmy
Other hand grip the semi, c'mon walk with me
Every ten houses, one got 'caine for sale
And I give you a dope track like my name Phar-rell
And you can get that stainless steel
Walk in my Chuck Taylors for a day, if you think it ain't f'real
When I buy rocks homey baguettes on my ring
And only neighborhood watch is my Tecno Marine
Keep a (Mac) on the block, I ain't talkin 'bout Beans
QB in the hood and I'm far from Queens
The boys in the hood is always hard
So come through and get smoked like a Cuban cigar

(Chorus)

(The Game)
I'm from Compton, Compton, a block from hell
And you can come get a bird for eleven
And we ain't got a penny for the reverand, a dime for a witness
Only (Church's) in the hood sell chicken (ba-KAW)
Every nigga in the hood sell chickens move work like city buses
You fuckin with the Hub City Hustler
The vans on the block won't touch us, the streets my home
So I move weight on the block like I'm Moses Malone
Bring the guns anywhere I roam, go with the chrome
And I hit all my shots, like I'm in the A.I. zone
And mob like Al Capone through N.W.A.'s home
Homes like Ed Jones will cripple your team up
In the home of Dr. Dre, Venus and Serena
Where 14-year-olds pack ninas and drive Beamers
We ball up subpeonas, take niggaz to the cleaners
And you know what I'm talkin about if y'all seen where..

(Chorus)

(The Game)
We drug dealin, but niggaz is squealin (fuck you rats)
What more can I say, just kill 'em
Fuck 'em, the gun bust 'em, we just knock on wood
Now is this under-stooooooood?
I mostly George when I whip, my supply is good
The man behind the bricks, I'm supplyin the hood
Catch bodies like Pistol Pete passes on the wood
Benz parked by the fence, brick stashed in the hood
Top work by the inch, I bag it, it's gone
Ask Quik, we rock more than microphones
Some niggaz ball, some niggaz do what we do
And other niggaz sing for Cash Money like TQ
The block will heat and sink you (hey dude)
Cali ain't all palm trees, purple haze and sea dude
Lose your life tryin to get these jewels
I keep the 40 cal wrapped in chrome like R2-D2

(Chorus)