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Wake your punk ass up |
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The MC Eiht's back in the muthaf**king house |
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Kicking the straight gansta shit for teh 9-1 |
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You know what I'm saying, yea |
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Growing up in the hood, yea boy, 1984 |
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Was the year my peers didn't know what was in store |
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A little hard head kid came abade |
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Time to pay my dues, learn the tricks of the trade |
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And at home, it's the same ass story |
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Mom's treat me like she don't even know me |
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But my younger brother's got much clout |
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I can't take this shit so I bones the hell out |
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And roll wit the pack of wicked muthaf**kas |
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No shorts are taken, we're down black brothers |
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A little nigga wit no problems at all |
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F**ked up and killed my first 8-ball |
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Quick up the stairs so little sucker stop looking |
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Stagger to the house so I can collect my whooping |
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But watch out 'cause a little nigga's up to no good |
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Growin' up in the hood |
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(Chorus) |
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Life ain't nuttin but bitches and money |
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'Cause in the city you live and let die |
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Nutting but bitches and money |
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I got hard times and realize, ?(skate)? sometimes I wonder |
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But it just seems that the hood could took me under |
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Police sweat my tip and keep harrassing |
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Trying to lock me up 'cause I keep on blasting |
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Community trying to shut me out |
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But the money keeps flowing and I got much clout |
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Wit the cluckers, the brother back street punk suckers |
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Try to break me out fool, you be a short muthaf**ka |
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Always strapping, eager to peal a cap |
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I set up a trap, put your foot to a nap |
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'Cause I grew up fast on the wrong side of the law |
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So watch me take 2 to your jaw |
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Don't enter my hood homeboy |
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Not a robocop, a robogansta, ready to destroy |
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I take chances 'cause life to be ain't no good |
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Growin' up in the hood |
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Life ain't nuttin but bitches and money |
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Where I'm at if you're soft, you're lost |
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Nuttin but bitches and money |
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1987, I'm back on the scene, out of jail, I'm legit |
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And I'm f**king up shit |
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I'm ready to peal a sucker's cap |
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And I heard that my hood was making snaps |
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As I precede to make my riches |
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Just like the neighborhood kingpin, pimp, and all these bitches |
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Task force trying to roll deep |
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But I'm playing these punk fools cheap |
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Niggas rolled by and try to blast, it didn't work |
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I seen the bullets flying and fool, I hit the dirt |
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Bullets fly through the window |
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Hits my brother, down goes my mother |
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As I'm rolling, I'm hitting my switches |
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Looking for the punk ass, sons of bitches |
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I found them, before I kill 'em, I said you f**ked up good |
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Got ta handle that, growin' up in the hood |
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(Chorus) |
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yea-a-a-a |
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A brother's on the run, I've got a hand in my stash box |
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Wanted 'cause I'm serving them the potent fat rocks |
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And my face is like a household name |
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Everybody warns their kids about the dope game |
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But I'm still makin gmy profit |
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And the one time just can't stop it |
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So I keep hiding my face |
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No time to waste, they got me on the chase |
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Now the neighborhood's on my line |
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'Cause some punk ass fool had drop the dime |
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5-0 at my doo' at 8 o'clock |
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Rush to the toilet so I could flush the rock |
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Out the backdoor, freeze, I heard a shout |
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Am I sho', yo I guess I got no clout |
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But it's murder one, I'm the victim, damn, that ain't good |
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Growin' up in the hood |
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where im at if you soft you lost |
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compton is tha city that im claimin city that im from take no shit from chump,compton is tha city that im claimin |
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where im at if you soft you lost |
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compton is tha city that im claimin city that im from take no shit from |
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(till fade) |