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The hardest thing for me to do |
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Is to get you, to know me, within sixteen bars |
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That's the hardest thing |
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Who is K. |
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Dot? A young nigga from |
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Compton On the curb writing raps next to a gun shot |
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On the corners where the gangsters and the killers dwell |
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The fraudulent tender scars that get unveiled |
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Everyone I knew was either crip or piru |
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Cousins in elementary, relatives in high school |
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With that being said, each one of their rivals |
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Was aiming something at my head, |
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I needed survival |
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Got jumped, got jacked, shot at, shot back |
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And I don't even push a line, |
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I'm just tryna push these rhymes |
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In the midst of staying neutral and discrete |
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My momma said you're judged by the company you keep |
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But what you can consider, that if it goes down |
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They'll kill you if you kill me, it gets deep nigga |
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So if you ask what |
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I'm doing |
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I'm tryna duck the influence of my city that's blue-and,.. real talk, and [Chorus:] |
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This is why they **** with me (real talk nigga, believe it) |
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This is why they **** with me (do what I do, y'know?) |
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I'm no gangster, no killer, |
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I'm just your average |
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Joe (know that) |
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But one thing you should consider, |
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I'm the realest you know |
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I was walking from |
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Centennial |
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When an unidentified vehicle rolled up, and |
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I was like hold up |
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Where you from? "How-bang" |
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Where you stay? "Westside", that's a piru gang to be exact |
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Well aware they had blue across they hat |
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Dropped backpack and ran inside of the cul-de-sac |
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Shots rang out, hoping to |
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God I wasn't wet |
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Crossed to cross |
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Rosecrans and ran inside of the yet |
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Chirped the homies on the hot ninety-five, they said they already knew |
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What happened, and meet 'em outside the garage |
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Never seen that many guns in my life |
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I was paranoid like a fiend in the night, but needed revenge |
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Grabbed the nine-ball, opened up the door, then got in |
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Somebody said fall back, we gon' make these niggas suffer |
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You my brother like a frat, and that's just to remind you |
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Thought about that so long |
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I had failed my finals, ****, but [Chorus:] |
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This is why they **** with me (I told you nigga) |
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This is why they **** with me (you fake nigga) |
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I'm no gangster, no killer, |
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I'm just your average |
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Joe (you fake) |
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But one thing you should consider, |
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I'm the realest you know |
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I don't do black music, |
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I don't do white music |
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I do everyday life music |
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Give 'em cuts like a nigga pierced a knife through it |
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You say you through, but |
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I've been through it, now that's cold |
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And this is for my county building children |
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In Hub City on hubcaps, no power-steering |
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I use perseverance in this mad city |
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Where the niggas drink |
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Remy and hold semis for cutthroats |
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Bernie Mac died, it's no joke |
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Don't ask why if you don't know about these killers and thieves |
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Seven grams of weed, you smoke that, but |
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I'm high off life |
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I could fall out the sky like twice |
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And land in the land of the |
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AKs And the minivans where the fan never on |
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Cause it's hotter than a lunatic's underarms in a straitjacket |
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In other words, we get it cracking, but |
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I keep it cool, y'know? [Chorus:] |
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This is why they **** with me [laughs] |
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This is why they **** with me (real talk) |
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I'm no gangster, no killer, |
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I'm just your average |
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Joe (come on) |
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But one thing you should consider, |
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I'm the realest you know |
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So there you have it |
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But I'm a leave you with this |
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An OG once told me |
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A real gangster is either dead or in jail |
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Or behind the scenes getting real money |
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I'm gone |
