1.Dr. Dre Intro
Lyricist：Not Applicable
Writer(s)：Not Applicable
His moms and pops met in Compton
His pops was a Nutty Blocc Compton Crip
Moms was from South Central, she claimed Hoover
They had the lil nigga in 1979 at Martin Luther King hospital
And if you know anything about Killa King, you know this：
Being born there is just like dying there
2.The City
Lyricist：Kendrick LamarJ. TaylorM. ValenzanoA. LyonJ. Steinman
Writer(s)：Kendrick LamarJ. TaylorM. ValenzanoA. LyonJ. Steinman
Leave the angels in the city
Leave the angels in the city
Tell them muthaf-ckas I'm forever paid
California king wrestle gators in the Everglades
Drive up out that muthaf-ckin swamp in the Escalade
So before you put that Red rag in your pocket I wanna see your
f-ckin resume
Started off on Ground Zero, then I start to levitate
Rip rappers a new asshole： I never hesitate
Dre Beats on, smoking that chronic just to meditate
I'ma give em hurricanes until another Levee break
You niggas is featherweight, I'm Aftermath's heavyweight
Now Dre's weapon of mass destruction is 'bout to detonate
When a nigga wack found me, shit, I was selling weight
Now a nigga's selling millions, now it's time to celebrate
Performing in front of millions, nigga every race
64 in the '64, now watch the Chevy scrape
4th album, no 5 mics？ Then let 'em hate
But I'm not stopping 'til I'm the f-cking king in every state
Recognize my life, ridicule my fight
Give me fuel for the fire burning when I yearn these lights
In the midst of the hieroglyphs my fingertips start to write
Get familiar with Cartwright
Cause I wrote that shot, I'm a raging bull when the needle drops
For the record, I'mm wreck it, even if my record don't pop
I'mma tie your knot on a Downtown building, let it tow behind me
Tell 'em they can find me in the dark with the ghetto children
look at my heart
Nigga fuck your feelings, this is me
I'm sick of muthaf-ckers talking about 'the West died'
Can't you hear my heart beating？
That's the motherf-ckin West side, you test me, you test God
I'm his son, insane songs, you come at me
Then I can split you with this Tommy gun
You won't have no time to run
I'm from the Compton slums and that's how the West ride
I'm from the city where 2 of the best died
Rest in peace to both of 'em, spit like I'm the ghost of 'em
Damn, I said I spit like I'm the ghost of 'em
Name your top 10, I'm harder than the most of 'em
Matter of fact, shorten your list nigga, top 5
Game, Biggie, Hov, prolly Pac, Nas, no particular order
Bet a mil that I slaughter, serve niggas, give a f-ck what you
ordered
How dare you niggas pop fly
When I'm the nigga sold 5 mil out the gate and numbers do not
lie
Recognize my life, ridicule my fight
Give me fuel for the fire burning when I yearn these lights
In the midst of the hieroglyphs my fingertips start to write
Get familiar with Cartwright
Cause I wrote that shot, I'm a raging bull when the needle drops
For the record, I'mm wreck it, even if my record don't pop
I'mma tie your knot on a Downtown building, let it tow behind me
Tell 'em they can find me in the dark with the ghetto children
look at my heart
Nigga fuck your feelings, this is me
I gave you the Documentary, shit was a classic
Gave you Doctor's Advocate, you ripped it out the package
Came with LAX, since critics said it was average
I was stressed the f-ck out, torn between Aftermath and
Geffen, Interscope, now I got you in the scope
Spill the red ink on the paper, it's like my pen is broke
And this is what you all been waiting for
I'm the lost angel knocking on Satan's door
What the f-ck y'all take me for？ I love you cause you hate me
more
I'm Kobe on the Lakers floor, except I give you 84
Shake you like Haiti's floor, walk up on you
Like 'what's going on baby boy？' Shots in that Mercedes door
Either I'm crazy, or the black Slim Shady, or
Could that be the reason that Baby said he would pay me more
But I still owe Jimmy one more album
The best the West has ever seen, no disrespect to Calvin
Recognize my life, ridicule my fight
Give me fuel for the fire burning when I yearn these lights
In the midst of the hieroglyphs my fingertips start to write
Get familiar with Cartwright
Cause I wrote that shot, I'm a raging bull when the needle drops
For the record, I'mm wreck it, even if my record don't pop
I'mma tie your knot on a Downtown building, let it tow behind me
Tell 'em they can find me in the dark with the ghetto children
look at my heart
Nigga fuck your feelings, this is me
Kendrick, And I wear pendant on my shoulder, soldier
Like a lieutenant, and the coupe tinted got pulled over
Johnny always lock a nigga down
Knowing damn well we don't wanna see the box like Manny Pacquiao
Little nigga Mayweather size, ride like Pac in his prime
Thug life is now on radar
Til the federal come through and raid ours
Reminiscing when the LA Raiders
Was in my home, snapback fitted on my uncle's dome
And I don't condone dickriding
I'm addicted to Westsiding
Living in a city where the skinny niggas die
And the semi bullets fly, but it turn me to a lion
Trying, and I mean that shit
Game came through, put the city on his back
I was in the city with a nigga, had seen that shit
'Compton!', a nigga gotta scream that shit
Never went commercial, Never T.V. screened that shit
Can't block or screen that shit, now everybody sing that shit
Red, is a very emotionally intense colour.
It enhances Human metabolism, increases respiration rate and
raises blood pressure.
It has a very high visibility, it is why stop signs, stop lights
and fire equipments are usually painted red.
It also represents one third of California's gang population.
Needless to say, please dress accordingly while visiting the Los
Angeles area.
Also, tuck your jewellry, and keep your hands inside your
vehicle
3.Drug Test
Lyricist：J. TaylorA. YoungCalvin BroadusK. RahmanS. JordanD.
TannenbaumS. BentonKendrick LamarJ. ColeE. HayesB.
Honeycutt
Writer(s)：J. TaylorA. YoungCalvin BroadusK. RahmanS. JordanD.
TannenbaumS. BentonKendrick LamarJ. ColeE. HayesB.
Honeycutt
I'm in this muthaf-cker doing what I wanna
10 bottles, 10 bitches go up out the sauna
Pull up in that Enzo then I do donuts
I'm that cool, cashews, make 'em all go nuts
Baby got ass I need me a shot of that
Lil mama get gangsta for me
Stuff it in your Prada bag
That's right
She got something that I wanna see
That's right, so if she leave
She f-cking with me, that's life
Twerk somethin', work something', hurt somethin'
She wanna check, check this shit out like a verse coming
They rip they neck and run they mouth when they heard something
Dre dropped another one and f-cked around and murdered somethin'
Club filled with dead bodies, if not than you a zombie
I'm not gon' feel sorry, you pass out from it
Get drunk, get blunted
Do what you wanna do, drug test on you
Lotta money when I talk
Big mills, big deals
'Bout a hundred in a vault
Sit still, that real
Lotta haters throw salt, they lost
Big Game give a f-ck how you feel
I fear she just might just pop that pill
And feel on me all night till the tip spill
Tip scales with her waistline, sex with the bassline
She gon f-ck a snare drum one drink at a time
Blow right, hoes fight over my name
I got my dough right, hustle running all in my veins
It's forty days, forty nights if I'm making it rain
I reign supreme, a bottle and some bomb-ass weed
Than we goood!
If you got drugs in this muthaf-cker, ohh
Let me see your hands in the air
Narcotics in the club and the ladies love us
So lets get high off something, high of something, high of
something
Till your muthaf-cking brain don't function
High of something, high of something
Ayy, what I supply taking you high？
Fireworks when I spark
Yellow tape, lotta chalk
Thought you said you a boss, big deal
Bitch chill, pulling out that black card
Showin' off big spendin', letting alcohol spill
I feel she might just get too faded, x-rated that's what I like
Glad that you made to this ceremoney at hand
Take a sip lets plan for the future
Introduce you to Snoop get you right and...
May I, kick a little something for G's
And, make a few ends？, as I breeze through
The shit on my hip is a f-cking preview
And guess what it lead to
If you got drugs in this muthaf-cker, ohh
Let me see your hands in the air
Narcotics in the club and the ladies love us
So lets get high off something, high of something, high of
something
Till your muthaf-cking brain don't function
High of something, high of something
Ayy, what I supply taking you high？
4.Martians vs Goblins
Lyricist：Lamar EdwardsLarrance DopsonChristopher BrownJ. TaylorD.
CarterT. Okonma
Writer(s)：Lamar EdwardsLarrance DopsonChristopher BrownJ. TaylorD.
CarterT. Okonma
Blood gang kill 'em all, Odd Future Wolf Gang
Kidnap a vampire and drain all his fuckin veins
Wolf Grey Jordans, use his intestines for the strings
Snatch up Rihanna and throw her in front of a fuckin' train
Sniff a fucking unemployment line of cocaine
Tie Lil B up to a full tank of propane
Swag, now watch him cook.. and just stand there and look
Have a bonfire with old Harry Potter books
Martians vs. Goblins, goons vs. the crooks
And since me and Tune had Viacom shook
I shoulda got a real-ass pirate to do the hook
Maybe Jack Sparrow maybe Peter Pan's nemesis
My power's limitless like Blanco on Sega Genesis
Superhero, mad that Marvel overlooked me
Cause Spiderman and Hulk straight pussy!
Bitch I'm a muthafuckin Martian
(I'm a goddamn Goblin)
Bitch I'm a muthafuckin Martian
(I'm a goddamn Goblin)
Muthafuckin Martian
(to a goddamn Goblin)
We are not the same, I am a Martian
A year ago, I was poor, somewhat
Now my future's brighter than Christopher's new haircut
Bruno Mars is still sucking dick and fucking male butts
In the same closet that Tyler Perry gets clothes from
I suck？ Where the fuckin Ring Pops？
You got a better chance of getting a copy of Detox
Wolfgang, we rock, crack rock and that shit was expected
Like Jayceon whenever he name-drop (fuck you, Tyler)
Jesus, motherfucking Theresa
This nigga Game got Wolf Haley for this feature
My team is running shit like we have full-cleat Adidas
Getting chased by the polices on a full bred Cheetah
Bishop Eddie caught me tryna escape
Bag full of drag and a Nicki Minaj mixtape
Dragging all you fags to the back of the log cabin
Fall back like Lebron's hairline against the Mavericks, he lost
Bitch I'm a muthafuckin Martian
(I'm a goddamn Goblin)
Bitch I'm a muthafuckin Martian
(I'm a goddamn Goblin)
Muthafuckin Martian
(to a goddamn Goblin)
We are not the same, I am a Martian
I do cause Tunechi always bless me
He killed me on my own track, so what？ Not you
fuck you, I spit like I had kids with Erykah Badu
I fucked her on the day of that naked video shoot
I was sucking her pussy like it was wonton soup
Then I hit Lebron's mom in bron-bron's coupe
With Delante West taping, we had bon-bons too
With Cleveland cheerleaders, they had pom-poms too
I smacked them bitches wearing Bishop Don Juan's suit
(Where was Snoop？) I don't know, probably doing what the Crips
do
But when I'm with my uncle, fuck it! Then I'm a Crip too
And I will Crip Weezy, Crip Jones, and Crip you
Now I'm the Doggfather, walking with a Shih Tzu
Mad that DC comics overlooked me
Cause Captain America's straight pussy
Bitch I'm a muthafuckin Martian
(I'm a goddamn Goblin)
Bitch I'm a muthafuckin Martian
(I'm a goddamn Goblin)
Muthafuckin Martian
(to a goddamn Goblin)
We are not the same, I am a Martian
5.Red Nation
Lyricist：J. TaylorD. CarterA. LyonM. ValenzanoEmanuel
GuentherFloria Senfter
Writer(s)：J. TaylorD. CarterA. LyonM. ValenzanoEmanuel
GuentherFloria Senfter
Throw your muthafucking Cincinnati hats in the sky
Nigga don't ask why
Red laces in and out of them Air Max '95's
I, walk on the moon, flow hotter than June
Any nigga want drama I kick up a sand dune
Peace to my man 'Tune for giving his man room
Now we hittin' switches to the Spring Break, Cancun
Get it, nah forget it, SuWoo I live it
Made the letter B more famous than a Red Sox fitted
But that was suicide, I don't live in Judah's eyes
Half of these rappers weren't trappin' when I was choppin' the
do or die
Suge had me in, I went Puffy like Zab Judah eye
Dre called, told my baby momma 'won't you decide'
She chose Doc, first day I poured ？ like its Aftermath for life
And all I do is ride
Before I turn on 'em I kill Satan and stick my red flag in the
ground
It's Red Nation!!!
Now Blood the fuck up
Everyday's a gamble muthafucker, tough luck
And we gon fuck the World til that bitch bust nuts
I can't tell ya whats good, but I can tell ya whats, what
And that's, B's up, hoes down
Lookin' in the mirror, I'm no where to be found
Blood, I'm a dog, call me a blood hound
Throwin' blood in the air, leave blood on the ground
Niggas'll trade they soul to be Drake or J. Cole
Live and die for this shit, word to Tupac Shakur's halo
One blood, plural, nigga I'm spendin' Euro's
Ferrari got an ice cream paint job, Dorrough
I'm up out the hood, where they pull guns on you like
Come up out ya hood, it ain't never all good
We roll up in backwoods, nigga get to actin' stupid
Get thrown in the back woods
Los Angeles, home of the scandalous
Pimp, hoes and gamblers
98 degree's on Christmas
Nigga we rollin' cannibus
Swisha sweet ain't it, I told her I'm Charles Louboutin
The bitch fainted, pulled her panites down, stain it
That's my Chi-lingo, yeah I'm bi-lingual
Ball by myself, Ochocinco
Dancing with the stars, bullets and fast cars
And everybody bleed out here, word to God
Now Blood the fuck up
Everyday's a gamble muthafucker, tough luck
And we gon fuck the World til the bitch bust nuts
I can't tell ya whats good, but I can tell ya whats, what
And that's, B's up, hoes down
Lookin' in the mirror, I know where to be found
Blood, I'm a dog, call me a blood hound
Throwin' blood in the air, leave blood on the ground
Russia got a Red Flag
US got Red Stripes
Last train to Paris, round the World in these red Nikes
Che Guevara of the New Era, test me
Louieville slugger, you'll get buried in my era
Got that natty on, tighter than a magnum
Walk in the club saggin' with a 38 magnum
Red Ralph Laurens, the double R sittin' on a hill like Lauren
Her and the car foreign
Got my red Dre Beats on, tryna put my peeps on
And I keep it hood like this Phantom is a Nissan
Where my nigga Jim Jones at？
Roll up the weed son, so many bloods in Compton had to get a NYC
song
And while I'm out here, I might as well go shopping
And put this new bad bitch I got her some red bottoms
And all these hatin' ass niggas want me dead
Cause I'm Malcolm X before he turned Muslim, RED
Now Blood the fuck up
Everyday's a gamble muthafucker, tough luck
And we gon fuck the World til the bitch bust nuts
I can't tell ya whats good, but I can tell ya whats, what
And that's, B's up, hoes down
Lookin' in the mirror, I know where to be found
Blood, I'm a dog, call me a blood hound
Throwin' blood in the air, leave blood on the ground
6.Dr. Dre 1
Lyricist：Not Applicable
Writer(s)：Not Applicable
His parents hustled
So he was left alone by himself a lot
So shit, he did whatever the fuck he wanted to do
When boys in the hood came out, this little nigga rolled himself
a joint
And watched the whole motherfucker by itself
His pops didn't give a fuck, but his mom found out？
Shit, she'd kill him and his dad
She didn't want him seeing, being or getting caught up in no
gangsta shit
So she never knew, until now
7.Good Girls Go Bad
Lyricist：J TaylorA. LyonM. ValenzanoA. GrahamJ.B. CorbittC. Reid
Writer(s)：J TaylorA. LyonM. ValenzanoA. GrahamJ.B. CorbittC. Reid
Since BIG aint here, I'mma do it for T'yanna
And put roses on the grave for Kanye's mama
This for all the lost girls locked up in the pen
All the girls that hold it down, gettin' beat on by their man
Respect women, I don't care if they a 2 or a 10
We don't beat on Kat Stacks we just bring it to an end
And we don't wanna see Nicki fighting Lil Kim
There's missin' women out there, let's just focus on them
This song is dedicated to Natalee Holloway
I feel for her Daddy, so I wrote this on Fathers Day
I know she gone, but she aint far away
I just had a daughter, pass me that cigar 'Ye
I'm about to tell a story, everybody parlay
Sit back, listen while I kick it, the Compton Boulevard way
My daddy used to beat up on my mama all day
So I took my chronic out and slept in the hallway
I learned this the hard way
When police came our way, my daddy had his act on
Like it never happened： (Broadway)
Plus I was kinda scared to keep it real with you
Now my mama good, nigga, she ain't gotta deal wit' ya
You want some money？ Nigga I aint get a deal wit' ya
You aint sayin' nothin', you like a still picture
You better thank God you still breathing air cause
You coulda went out, like ya boy Steve McNair
Don't make the good girls go bad, no
Don't make the good girls go bad, no (I, wont)
If you dont, you gon' really love us (I said I wont)
Please don't use us, dooon't
Good evening, I'm in Chicago at the Elysian
With some girls that say they models, but hmm... I don't believe
'em
Who's still gettin' tested？
Wheres all the women at, could still remember who they slept
with？
Where's all the girls too busy studying to make the guest list？
But when you do go out, you still working with what you was
blessed with
Do it girl, I'll be your King, be a Queen Latifah
I love ya ass like Milhouse love Lisa
I love ya ass like the ninja turtles love pizza
Ironically enough, you something I want a piece of
You got it girl, this song remind me of Kat from Philly
A girl I used to love but still she started acting silly
Her hearts a lil' chilly, she a little too carefree
In 10 years, who's paying for all that therapy
Umm, nigga not me!
Yeah, I'm probably not the man you take me for
But I bet I could be if you make me yours
Most of the shit I say is true
When I'm done with bad bitches I'm coming straight to you
Good girl
Don't make the good girls go bad, no
Don't make the good girls go bad, no
If you dont, you gon' really love us
Please don't use us, dooon't
Drizzy, I'm sittin here watchin' Basketball Wives
Like ugh, them is basketball wives？
Only cute one, Gloria, thats my nigga Matt Barnes chick
Can't swim in that pool fool, thats a crucial conflict
Never sleep with the wife of niggas you eat with
And never buy a chick a bag on the first day
Or pop a bottle with her on her birthday
And tell her ass, get on
That type of shit'll get you spit on
I don't hit on girls, I just hit on girls
Like 'hey lil mama, come in Game and Drizzy world'
'Get busy girl, drink that Rose til you dizzy girl'
She walking round the club all lost like 'where is he, girl？'
He on the top of the charts next to Beyonce
Right under Kanye, so let the Dom spray
Thats your girl, nigga go on make her cry
Soon as you do, I'm pulling up in that Porsche, like 'Lets ride'
Don't make the good girls go bad, no
Don't make the good girls go bad, no
If you dont make the good girls go bad, no
Don't make the good girls go bad, no
If you dont, you gon' really love us
Please don't use us, dooon't
Word on the news stand, Alicia got herself a man
And thats my nigga Swizzy, know you see Game and Drizzy
Surrounded by them diamonds, Imma cold mackin
Nigga its a cold climate, don't ask me where the crime went
Just tell me where them dimes went
So I can get em fitted, let em beat a bridesmaid at the wedding
for my niggas
Yeah I'm married to the game
And she married to my chain, watching Boys In The Hood
Lets take a drive down memory lane.
8.Ricky
Lyricist：J. TaylorK. RahmanD. Tannenbaum
Writer(s)：J. TaylorK. RahmanD. Tannenbaum
'Shit! Rick!
C'mon man! '
'Ricky! '
'Help me! Help me! Somebody, help me! '
'Ricky, Ricky! '
'Ricky! '
Blood of a slave, heart of a giant
Had to leave Aftermath, Dre said I was too defiant
That was five years ago, look how fast it go
Destroyin' Interscope, shot myself like Plaxico
But fuck that, blaze one, where the matches yo？
Hit the freeway and see how fast the Aston go
Roll the window down, clip off the ashes so
You can see all my diamonds and how much cash I blow
How many bitches I fuck, how many cars I drive
How many goons I got, count 'em and they all outside
Niggas try to shut me up like Malcom
But standin' in the window caine smoking was the outcome
Sometimes I get a little stressed and pop a Valium
Hit Hollywood late night and knock down a stallion
So niggas think twice about my medallion or
You'll hear Cuba Gooding yelling 'Ricky! '
My nostalgia is one hundred percent Compton and zero percent
snitch
Park a Bentley and the Phantom on blocks while I use the bitch
Made the Cincinnati fitted more famous than Griffey did
And just to think, several years ago they tried to split his wig
Two to the chest, struck his heart, one hit his rib
Then I blacked out, like a movie, all I could hear...
Feelin' all fucked up, woke up to a doctor
All I could think about, was that the cops took my weed and my
choppers
They want me to sing, like Sinatra, I told the detective
Get this clear like Belvedere vodka
Them five shots created a monster
Hell's Kitchen comin' straight out of Compton
I seen Boyz in the Hood, Morris Chestnut was a actor
2Pac was the real life 'Ricky! '
Then they shot down the nigga that shot him, I swear to God
If I'm lying then Compton is New York and I'm Rakim
I'm from where niggas get murdered over stock rims
And punched in the jaw just for a cocked brim
Nobody mama let the cops in, we ain't got no options
Wanted to be a boxer, but I was boxed in
Then my grandmother house went up for auction
Too many niggas locked in, dig up Cochran and defend all my
niggas
With they faith under stockings, rather face God then 25 with no
options
If Compton ain't the murder capital, we in the top ten
Drive by with our face painted, like a clown
With a tre-pound, forty shells bouncin' off the ground
This how my living room sound, when my brother got shot down...
9.The Good, The Bad, The Ugly
Lyricist：J. TaylorC. Hollis
Writer(s)：J. TaylorC. Hollis
Yo you can keep asking them fuckin' questions all fuckin' day
man
I told you what, I told you what the fuck happened man
Told your partner the same thing man, how long a nigga gotta
stay here？
There was money on the table with the bricks
I was in the living room feeling on this bitch
Heard my car alarm goin' off on my 6
So my dogs start barkin' and some niggas hit the fence
So I take my dick out this bitch mouth and walked to the window
Pull the blinds down and took one hit of the Endo
You niggas ain't doin' shit, but stealin' my neighbors rims so
Walked back to the couch and told the b＊tch to bend over
That's what I'm rolling with...
Nah I ain't saying shit and I ain't snitching on nobody
Yea that's my .45, but it ain't got no bodies
And 2 dead niggas？ Them is nobody...
They should've torched em, then you wouldn't had no bodies
I mean look at these pictures, just so sloppy
Couldn't have been me, I do my shit like John Gotti
Feed the nigga to the sharks after dark
Man fuck this shit I thought I told y'all
There was money on the table by the bricks
I was at the kitchen table choppin' up some shit
Listenin' to Jeezy and I heard a little (bullet sound)
So I turned the radio down and cocked my 4-Fif, oh shit..
Am I hit？ Nah just a hole in my Jordan fitted
So I turn down all the lights and cock my 4-Fif
Seen some niggas jump in they Escalade and that was it
How much longer I gotta stay in this muthafucka？
Let me get a cigarette, I don't even smoke but shit y'all got a
nigga stressed
I gotta stay in this muthafucka until I confess？
Shit, y'all bitches better get some rest
Cause it'll be a cold day in Miami
Before I snitch on myself or the hood, you understand me？
Yeah I fuck with the Bulls but I ain't Sammy
Niggas run around the hood singin'... they should get a Grammy
And you two muthafuckas should get an Oscar
With this good-cop-bad cop shit... take me to process
Cause I don't eat breakfast with no pigs
I watched First 48 so fuck your 25 years
No evidence, no bid. I don't know who split them niggas' wigs
Already told y'all, there was money on the table with the bricks
I was walkin' to the bathroom to take a shit
Then I heard my dogs barkin', there's some noise by the fence
So I ran to my room and reached for the 4 Fif
Then I seen three niggas by my back door
Looked out the bathroom window and seen two more
So I reached for my chopper and some clips out the drawer
Guess I had to welcome niggas to the gun store.
10.Heavy Artillery
Lyricist：J. TaylorD GrantW. RobertsN. WarwarM. AielloB. SiglerP.
HurttK. Gamble
Writer(s)：J. TaylorD GrantW. RobertsN. WarwarM. AielloB. SiglerP.
HurttK. Gamble
You know we got em
45s, machine guns
We got those grenades on your ass, nigga
Boss. Black Wall Street
I'm in that bulletproof Maybach...nigga Teflon Don
Nigga talking like a G but walking like a broad
I pull up at the light, pineapple in your car
Nigga I shatter lives, my music camouflage
I court killers at the center of my synagogue
Torture and extortion to the Fortune 500
From the porches to the Porsches with the wides on it
'Fore you snitches bitch, you better put your lives on it
Get you twisted body found with them wires on it
I get my money smoke extensive like it's Friday
I'm sitting sideways like I'm in my driveway
My shit pancakes, my shit 3 wheels
You niggas six feet, we gettin 3 meals
They got jumped
45s, machine guns, and heavy artillery
Yeah I got 2 gun charges, 2 felonies, just got off probation
Today motherfucker, won't budge for no charge
Real nigga, I hold no grudge with no thugs
Come through spraying, bullets out the McLaaren
They ain't meant for you, move bitch, you hard of hearing？
I speed off doing 90 with Tha Carter blaring
Bust shots in the Cavalier like I ball with Baron
Yeah I Blake Griff niggas, make stiff niggas
Eminem wasn't Dr. Dre's only sick nigga
Insane in the membrane like Soul Assassins
12 gauge stop a nigga heart like a bowl of Aspirin
I hold automatics, let your man hold the casket
Murder game cold as Aspen, body found in the trash bin
First 48, they don't find me, case closed
Like a rehabilitation spot in Bobby Brown nose
Take em back to Boyz in da Hood when I pull the pump out
Something like C-Murder on Worldstar when I dump out
They got jumped
45s, machine guns, and heavy artillery
Ain't nothing changed but them bullets in my clip
I still pull it, still bully niggas on the strip
Beef, I cook it fully with the fifth
And I ain't got no pets, I put a bullet in ya bitch
A nigga with a gun in his hand who won't bust it？
Like a bitch with a dick in her hand who won't suck it
This is the art of war, you niggas just drawing
Anything I target on is dearly departed, gone
Drive by or walk up on -
I just stop, breathe, aim cock squeeze
on the Glock, infrared beam
Put your block up on machines while the pussies run and scream
11.Paramedics
Lyricist：J. TaylorJ. JenkinsV. Brooks
Writer(s)：J. TaylorJ. JenkinsV. Brooks
I said 1 nigga down, 2 niggas run it
Game and the snowman, 100 miles and gunning
Here come the paramedics!
It goes 1 for the money, 2 for the dough
On the count of 3, niggas kicking at your door
Here come the paramedics!
Here come the paramedics!
It goes 1 for the ghetto, 2 niggas run it
Game and the snowman, 100 miles and gunning
Here come the paramedics!
Here come the paramedics!
Here come the pain! I've got a name
Ever since an adolescent I've been deep in the game
All I need is more weed, a little something for the pain
So good like a hook from T-Pain
They say you're nobody til somebody kills you
I say 'go be somebody, even if it kills you'
They say 'death smells like bad ass weave'
Another watch, another chain： last thing a nigga needs
I swear to God, a couple right by the night stand
Clip my half a hundred, case another hundred grand
And get some rest when your conscious keep waking ya
The evil kicks in and them demons start shaking ya
Every night, dude, I wake up in a cold sweat
Get dressed and hit the club in a cold vest
God damn, girl, you so sexy, cold shit
But why they still riding to your old shit？
Party by the beat, all still riding with ya
Party by the big riders, still siding with ya
Party by the real niggas still hustling to ya
I know you're here in the day, ain't nothing to ya
They say pictures worth about a thousand words
These niggas talking like they really worth a thousand birds
Here come the paramedics, bitch I done told you
When niggas calling beef, it's for the tofu
1 for the money, 2 for the dough
On the count of 3, niggas kicking at your door
Here come the paramedics!
Here come the paramedics!
It goes 1 for the ghetto, 2 niggas run it
Game and the snowman, 100 miles and gunning
Here come the paramedics!
Here come the paramedics!
See us riding like some mobsters, with the trunk full of
choppers
Give a nigga a couple shots, and I ain't talking about vodka
Hanging out the sunroof, Snowman driving
Fresh up at the trap, I ain't never been a rat
Get cheese like a mouse, so I'm honest throwing stack
Let you suckers make it rain, I'll make it Katrina
And pile all them hoes in the back of my Beemer
Hit the freeway, bumping 'Ghetto Boys', with the V12 steaming
Top down, in the rain, California dreaming
I'd be lying if I said I still flip birds
Well nigga I still flip birds!
Word to the doors on this I'm sitting on
Ain't a rapper alive me and Jeezy ain't shitting on
Who else you know shit out Benjamins, and piss Patron？
Put Michael Buffer between us, and let's get it on!
1 for the money, 2 for the dough
On the count of 3, niggas kicking at your door
Here come the paramedics!
Here come the paramedics!
It goes 1 for the ghetto, 2 niggas run it
Game and the snowman, 100 miles and gunning
Here come the paramedics!
Here come the paramedics!
(Hey Snowman, these niggas hustling backwards
I'ma pull the K out, and turn em back around)
Look, if I give you half a chicken, can you break that bitch
down？
Tell the truth, it's me nigga, ain't nobody else around
Jeezy said it's a recession, so we hustling that Mayweather
My birds the best pound for pound, like Mayweather
Undisputed： I never lost a brick
UPS, FedEx and duct tape to a bitch
Put her ass on that greyhound
Tell that ho to stay down
Sleep the first 48, and wake up in the A-Town
Give a fuck about a bitch
Die for the paper, hustle relentless
Nigga, I take the sky from a scraper
The Gerber out a baby mouth, the fire out of Satan's house
These rappers turned saints, we pull them fucking gauges out
Black Tims kicking in the door, at your lady house
He at the strip club, well fuck it, we gon' wait it out
You tipped him off, so now all the K's is out
We relocated, shot him down from the neighbor's house
1 for the money, 2 for the dough
On the count of 3, niggas kicking at your door
Here come the paramedics!
Here come the paramedics!
It goes 1 for the ghetto, 2 niggas run it
Game and the snowman, 100 miles and gunning
Here come the paramedics!
Here come the paramedics!
12.Speakers On Blast
Lyricist：J. TaylorA. PattonE. StevensLamar Edwards
Writer(s)：J. TaylorA. PattonE. StevensLamar Edwards
It's not usual, the game be, all up on some South shit
Straight West Coasting, you can tell by my outfit
Red 'nati fitted, 'Blood in, Blood out' shit
Empty jelly jars, nigga, bird in the couch shit
The mad rapper, Oscar the Grouch shit
Except when I'm hopping out of cans, I'm pulling out shit
Dippin' the 4 though, double X 3-D Polo
If hip-hop was the league, I'd be the motherfuckin logo
Your last shit was so-so, you should sign to Jermaine
I've been hard since I was solo
Niggas feel my pain, I make it rain without the strippers
Go against the grain, and put your shit back like some clippers
I bang and then I hang out at the Staples like Blake Griffin
You can tell I'm getting money the way that glass house is
sitting
I mash out the strip then like Nas when I'm dippin
Feeling like God's Son, the way that It Was Written
Them boys want they music on blast
Don't turn me down, turn me up every time them cops pass
Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, don't even ask
Cause I got another ounce up in the stash
Them boys want they music on blast
Don't turn me down, turn me up every time them cops pass
Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, don't even ask
Cause I take 2 hits, and then I pass
I see the cops in the rearview, why can't a motherfucker chill
in the car
Feelin' like Missy, why you all up in my grill
They must know that I got bird stashed all up in my grill
Camouflage by the Armor All while it's sparkling off my wheels
And I fuck hoes that pray on Dwight Howard and Shaquille
Not them throwback rats they be on showin' college hill
For real, I think my first album sold 5 mil'
And you say to yourself 'He's broke'
Well how the hell am I ballin', like Spalding
I did a couple of movies, now agents calling and calling
Can't get to the phone right now cause balls is all in this
bitch mouth
When did we start taking these tricks out？
Now she gon' run her big mouth and tell her girlfriend
You had her all up in the wind
Blowing yo cheese on Louie Vuitton, and now that bitch is in the
wind
And after the next draft, she gon' start that cycle again
How you claimin' that bitch when she with him？
Come again cause
Daddy Fat Sax, my balls are on your chin, but can you tell me
where my dick's at？
Come order ghetto, head hunter, head buster through the
chit-chat
I skip to the lou, my darling bring the thunder, I'm the
lightning that strikes twice
Motherfucker, call me mass of, cause I run the plantation and
I'm whooping niggas asses
If they disrespect the presentation, below the Mason-Dixon, we
facin' the basses that were missin' pimpin'
You can embrace it or come face to face with total devastation
My mojo is never fadin', I'm in my Optimus Prime transform
Switch it up, heat it up, speed it up, that means I'm gone
Like gears, ahead of your Buzz, Toy Story and club songs
Boy, gone, the A-T-L-iens are phoning home
But I feel like a librarian, cause style's are being' loaned out
like books
A castle full of crooks, rape and pillage
They'll do anything for money, I bet misleading the village
Not from New England, but I pack a patriot
Not from Atlanta, but I got the cater
Not from Chicago, but I'm a bear
I'm a bay area nigga, 49er, Raider
I'm about my bread man, I ain't no sucker
Now these bitch ass niggas soft as table butter
I'm about my riches, magazines, street hustler
You can ask your uncles, daddies, mothers, and your older
brothers
But I used to flee through that yellow white
Sellin' that shit below the retail price
I'm a rare breed like the bike club, get it right
Desperado like Tori Amos, shout out to dynamite
I got my red cup, and some green
What kind of green you smoking pimp？ Blue dream
My nigga let my hit that there hemp, do your thing
How many woofers in your trunk？ 4 15s
13.Hello
Lyricist：J. TaylorL. PoliteL. EdwardsS. Jean
Writer(s)：J. TaylorL. PoliteL. EdwardsS. Jean
You ain't gotta say bye bye, baby this is hello
Put your hands in the sky, that's where we gonna go
I like you so I gotta put a ring on that
You the one that I wanna put everything on that
Let's go, baby this is hello
Let's ride
She used to wake up to The View
Now she wake up with a view
Used to wake up to a kiss
Now she wake up to a shoe
Used to dream about millions
Now she working with a few
Used to know one Porsche, now she know two
I'll handbags stuck to her like glue
Minks and chinchillas, whole closet like a zoo
Agent Provocateur, Louis and lots of Dior
All her friends wearing Gucci so she don't rock it no more
Every time we in Jimmy Choo, they gotta lock up the store
Walk out with boxes galore
Next week she cop her some more
Alexander McQueen cause she my queen
Spent an Aston Martin on the ring...
Soon as them butterfly doors go up on the Ferrari
She step outside the car on there, stumble into Bulgari
Fall in that YSL, try it on, you fly as hell
Don't really like it, but I'm buying it： might as well
Have her own reality show： no drama
Grab your girl, we're shooting real housewives in the Bahamas
2-piece Hermes, Bottega Veneta flats
Heard Diddy out here so you know where the party at
We on... and I ain't even gotta ask twice
Cause when we hit the room she up and down like the gas price -
damn!
Got chills thinking of last night
I swear you was a goddess in your past life
Girl I know you wanna get away
This hotel room, that's where it goes down
And I know we never get away
Just give me a couple minutes and I'm in it
We all over the table, ain't no problem with you sweating on me
And I ain't pulling out, I'm tryna have fun
I know you tryna have fun...
14.All The Way Gone
Lyricist：D. CannonJ. TaylorL. EdwardsM. BarrettO. Akintimehin
Writer(s)：D. CannonJ. TaylorL. EdwardsM. BarrettO. Akintimehin
Just me and you girl... woah
She leave her hair in the sink
She leave her hair on the floor
Her hair all over the bed, that make me love her more
She wear a scarf, Louis V to be exact
It's a wrap, messing up her wrap, blowing out her back
Never let another rap nigga hit it from the back or the front
Or my mama nigga, I be gone for months, come back
(And it's still tight, I like when it's real tight)
I'ma lick in circles now...
(Tell me what that feel like)
Feels like when you try them red bottoms on
It feels like the song cause we all the way gone...
Between me and you, do anything for old girl
Like hit it in the morning, yeah, Cole World
Baby you're the one
You ain't gotta hit the club no more
Cause we done did that
Tryna find the one
But you been looking for love in all the wrong places
Every day's a movie, girl, you make the scene
They gon' keep on watching, give 'em something to see
We gonna be all the way gone
We gonna be all the way gone
She call me all the time, I ain't no regular Joe
I be staying at the Roosevelt more than Marilyn's ghost
I'm messing bitches with Chuck, but I was wearing some Foams
Shorty been fly forever, these bitch's parachutes broke
TC's is on her person I'm aware that you know
And you know the flow, cause they jack it, I'm apparently cold,
you know
Life's lemons is bitter, I need another fruit
She know we can't elope, look at what honey do
Straight G thing, double M G thing
Weed they can't fuck with, I'm puffin A.C. Green
When I peep in the public, bet I'm leaving with something
And I'm so fly I make some homebodies luggage
Shout out Donny Sublime
Shout out Bobby on Hundreds
Not too many is touching, double M G this summer
The RED album, lil red shortie, you can't touch her
I know Mario's on the hook, but I was playing Duck Hunt
Baby you're the one
You ain't gotta hit the club no more
Cause we done did that
Tryna find the one
But you been looking for love in all the wrong places
Every day's a movie, girl, you make the scene
They gon' keep on watching, give 'em something to see
We gonna be all the way gone
We gonna be all the way gone
Yeah, he blowing up your cell phone
Send him the voicemail cause we all the way gone
And you ain't doing nothing wrong
But killing the competition in that Cosabella thong
Turn to the side, let me see them thighs
Profile, damn I'm digging your style, we can start slow now
Then speed it up, this playing in the background
While I beat it up - I beat it up...
Baby soon as we get home, it won't take us too long
We gon' make it to the bedroom, I like the guest room
You can pick the next room
Put the camera on the tripod, got me playing on your iPod
I know you feeling me on my job： Director
Cut!
Baby you're the one
You ain't gotta hit the club no more
Cause we done did that
Tryna find the one
But you been looking for love in all the wrong places
Every day's a movie, girl, you make the scene
They gon' keep on watching, give 'em something to see
We gonna be all the way gone
We gonna be all the way gone
15.Pot Of Gold
Lyricist：GameC. BrownS. Jean
Writer(s)：GameC. BrownS. Jean
Though the spot light,
Is not for me,
I close my eyes and imagine I'm home,
I miss the days, when, life was simple,
But if I never tried to follow that rainbow,
In search of the pot of gold
(woooah woooah)
In search of the pot of gold
There's a mother out there right now,
About to have the next LeBron,
Searchin' for a pot of gold like a leprechaun,
They say death comes in threes,
Whose next in line？
And I just lost a best friend for the second time,
Now I'm on a quest to find peace,
Still gotta carry my piece and soo-woo when its reppin' time,
Yall don't understand, I'm misunderstood,
Give Interscope 2 more albums then I'm done for good,
Sold 10 million records, ain't leave the hood,
It's a cold world everybody need a hood,
And everybody doin' time stay headstrong,
You still gotta chance to live,
Even though you're dead wrong.
Though the spot light,
Is not for me,
I close my eyes and imagine I'm home,
I miss the days, when, life was simple,
But if I never tried to follow that rainbow,
In search of the pot of gold
(woooah woooah)
In search of the pot of gold
Sometimes I try to do good but I just can't be,
Its hard to get myself to do things that ain't me,
And yall should thank me,
But my haters busy tryna send me home early but you can't New
Orleans Saint me.
I ain't a saint B, I ain't a god God,
I ain't an angel neither but I try hard yall,
I'm lightin' up for all my soldiers at war,
As I sit back and watch the ashes on my cigar fall,
Wayne just came home,
And Tip back on the yard dog,
Guess Pujols ain't the only one playin' hard ball.
Though the spot light,
Is not for me,
I close my eyes and imagine I'm home,
I miss the days, when, life was simple,
But if I never tried to follow that rainbow,
In search of the pot of gold
(woooah woooah)
In search of the pot of gold
16.Dr. Dre 2
Lyricist：Not Applicable
Writer(s)：Not Applicable
In Compton, you either a blood or a crip
Nigga ain't no one in between
Shit was a hard decision for him to make, cause both his parents
was crips
His Uncle Greg was a crip, he died when he was 5
His brother Jevon, he got murdered when he was just 13
After that he decided that being a crip just wasn't for him
So he ran across the tracks until everything turned red
And never looked back
17.All I Know
Lyricist：J. TaylorLuu BreezeM. SamuelsA. OrtizC. Green
Writer(s)：J. TaylorLuu BreezeM. SamuelsA. OrtizC. Green
All I know is this pain in this life
And this struggle it troubles me so
All I know is that I'm stuck on this road
Of success so I got to get mine
All I know is this pain in this life
And this struggle it troubles me so
All I know All I know
Red phantom, they say I look like Josh Smith from Atlanta
I do, hachoo, excuse you, that nigga look like me
He from the G.A., and I'm M easy, that's Game
I don't do what you niggas do, that's lame
I Soo Woo with my crew from the from the Burque
I Soo Woo with my crew, from under Young Wayne
A walkin' motherfuckin' flame
Livin' up to my brothers name
Rockin' that red shit, wasn't fuckin' with them other gangs
Most other gang's, they wasn't fuckin' with me
Ain't your average motherfucker, I'm a motherfuckin' G
I got some shit on my chest that I want to get off
I got some shit for that vest that will knock that bullshit off
Money like made off, killing like aid off, royal holiday
Hillel fucking Kay off, and I don't take a fucking day off...
Cincinnati C hat, Boston B hat, them is me hats to the
Philadelphia P hats
Believe that; bring it to the hood so you can see that
Dumb ass niggas like game, Where the keys at？
Automatic start, nigga where the trees at？
Red boned bitch like Alisha, where the keys at？
Freeze that, like a fucking picture
If you ain't a blood I ain't fucking with ya na I'm just fucking
with ya
Stay on my hood shit, hop in the bucket with ya
Throw the ski masks on and get to straight fucking with ya
Ain't that some shit, that bustards sick
You wanna know how I'm livin' nigga ask your bitch
Told you precisely how to ask and sit, and she a nasty bitch
I came in her mouth ask her lips, you know why？
Cause I had to go past them lips, Crip
You probably paid for those ass and tits for...
Fuck with the blood clock, smile for my mug shot
Can't go out like em but I love Big, I love Pac
Love Fab, love kiss that's where the love stops
Cause I sleep with the enemy and I hug blocks
Birthed me in the drug spot, nigga with a attitude
Searching me is fuck cops, nigga pay your gratitude
Before you say I'm acting Ruth
Understand I'm tryna feed my people
Haiti just like Compton the way I'm packing food
But I will act a fool, put cheese on your head
Motherfucker I will green bay packer you
Have a whole football team of niggas after you
Like the punt turn, when will you fucking learn
Now take your ass back to school
Wait till 3-o-clock click clack at you
And fuck with your conscience like back packers do
And I ain't Talib, Black Though or Mos Def
But I've seen the most deaths
And nigga I'm just telling you
18.Born In The Trap
Lyricist：J. TaylorC. MartinV. McCoy
Writer(s)：J. TaylorC. MartinV. McCoy
I was born in the crosshairs without a pot to piss in
Where niggas get smoked over their Jordans and their Pippens
Welcome to California, nah, it ain't cold as New York
But life is a bitch out here： word to Too $hort
Wack as a shooter so we called him Tony Kukoc
Gang banging had us addicted like it was Newports
Whoever thought that it would spread like petroleum
Now BP connect got us praying to them holy men
Just had a daughter homie, named her Katrina
If I raise her right, then maybe she can take over FEMA
Spike Lee in New Orleans shooting documentaries
The Game still in Cali eating off The Documentary
Take em to the cemetry I mean the cemetary
Where everybody boxed down： Refrigerator Perry
And everybody fuck up and blame it on Barack
Cause he's just like T.I...： Born in the Trap
And everybody fuck up and blame it on Barack
Cause he's just like Gucci： Born in the Trap
And everybody fuck up and blame it on Barack
Cause he's just like Jeezy： Born in the Trap
And every little fuck up, my gun she go 'crack! '
Cause I'm just like Outkast, born in the Trap
So what's going on with you faggots？
And what you gonna do when your swag no longer matters？
And your bitch ain't the baddest cause she in her mid-40s
And your Phantom played out so you hating on the shorties
Cause they running around like they was your age
Fucking bitches raw cause now the world ain't got no AIDS
Yeah, 2050 on these niggas
Golddiggers sucked you dry left hickeys on you niggas
I used to run around like you, run the town like you
Walk my red nose and clown like you
But it got old like Betty White
This rap shit real deep like Barry White
Reminiscing on the days I used to carry white
Walking though them Crip hoods in the cherry Niks
Now I live a married life, walking in the house
To the home-cooked meals
Joint American Express accounts and less dollar bills
Niggas still got their hands out, begging for a stack
Just like Goodie Mob, I was born in the Trap
Niggas still got their hands out, begging for a stack
But just like Luda, I was born in the Trap
Niggas still got their hands out, begging for a stack
But like Soulja Boy, I was born in the Trap
Niggas still got their hands out, begging for a stack
Take em to Shawty Lo, nigga, learn how to Trap
Shit deeper than the roof's bent
15s drumming, Questlove in the coup fam
Riding through Pittsburgh, Wiz got the Steelers
Born by the jungle so I came with gorillas
Since niggas dropping more dimes than we fuckin
We out the hood, tryna get money like？
Splitting backboards just to get our weed stuffed in
The crack we cookin, we don't need ovens
We need something to put in the mouth of our kids
Instead of copping chains, let's fly to Chile and dig
Go to Haiti and feed to the bahamas and breathe
On the way back, to my nigga Sean from Belize, you know
Sometimes I feel like this rap shit is heaven sent
Then I get a high, feel like it's irrelevant
So I'm about to pop the trunk like an elephant
And campaign with Wyclef while he run for president
I'm about to pop the trunk like an elephant
And campaign with Wyclef while he run for president
Told you I was gonna kill this shit, Primo
19.Mama Knows
Lyricist：J. TaylorPharrell Williams
Writer(s)：J. TaylorPharrell Williams
Mama told me stay away from them niggas
Mama told me she had a K for them niggas
Mama told me she go to pay for them niggas
While my grandmother told me that she would pray for them niggas
They just young black and ignorant
Lusting over models and the Benjamins
Got the game twisted like (what？) licorice
When I was rocking lottos moving packs in front of McDonalds
She was looking for me, pulled up in that Old El Dorado
I was running around with Chase, chasing new black wheels
Why would I do that still？ That's what got 2Pac killed...
But I use that still cause I won't do that deal
Screw the muzzle in potatoes of that new Mac Mill
What did I learn？ Nothing
My papa smoking sherm blunts and
Beating on my moms like her head was a percussion
Tat! Tat! My.45 knocking on your window
She said there would be days like this, Pharrell, drop the
instrumental
Yezzir...
I know I must go and I don't know my way
Still don't know where we all came from
Crack a Swisher, crack a 5th up
Hennessy pouring like Niagara Falls
Used to watch Magic, he showed me how to ball
Moms working late night, to get a plate right
Had some older brothers, all we did was smoke and play-fight
Wish I could go back to them days cause streets don't play right
Some niggas hard, other niggas was the Kid N Play type
Didn't stop me from pretending I was Apollo from Rocky
Working on my dip-game, now nobody wanna box me
Pick and choose, stick and move
So many dudes ended up in sleeping bags on late-night news
But not my mama's song, going around the hood serving customers
She yapping in my ear, but it's louder than the muffler
What I didn't listen to, I wish I would've trusted her
Wish I had a shovel, be digging both of my brothers up
Like 'here hug em ma, one last time'
Put a chain on both of them niggas, they get one last shine
Put your block down, recognize a king cause it's my town
Word to my mother you can throw up your rock now
Got off the beef shit cause I ain't tryna see my mama in
all-black
Right there, crying over hard facts
Now she gotta turn in all her cars and get her house back
Never! She carried me for 9 months so she can have whatever
Plus she taught me how to shoot Berettas, told me that I'd be a
king
So RIP to Coretta, if you don't understand that
Then refer to my letter, while I sprinkle
Niggas with platinum, from my last album
Got the check, so I signed on the X like Malcolm
Riding through the hood, you hating niggas like 'how come？ '
That niggas Game got it, heard he selling talcum
Either way, hey playboy, check it, this is the outcome
You might not like it, but my mama psychic
Why you niggas twisted like the top of a Sidekick？
20.California Dream
Lyricist：J. TaylorL. EdwardsG. KerrS. Robinson
Writer(s)：J. TaylorL. EdwardsG. KerrS. Robinson
I'm at the house bout to roll this kush up
I can get a call at any minute, so I'm just doing push-ups
Waiting on what seems to be forever
I burned a hole in my Polo sweater cause I was nervous
That's how crazy birth is, loading up this Beretta
Cause this time I'm having a baby girl
So it's whatever, whenever... whatever
You my willow and it's my will to make this last forever
First thing I'm a tell her？ Daddy's your umbrella
Get with a glass slipper Cali, you my Cinderella
Gotta be a dream, hold up, that's your middle name!
Both your brothers big now, so baby you my little Game
Who gonna be the Godfather？ Lil Wayne？
Y'all smoke too much but got Cali tatted on his veins
And I just got a text from your mama
Saying the water burst, I guess it's time for my comma...
You walk through the door, she on the ground crying
She don't wanna get up, you had a baby right here
I ain't cleaning that shit up!
I finally got her out the house, now we on the elevator
She screaming, her left the car seat
But I'm a tell her later
Forget the car seat - man - I'm hella-faded
She like 'I know you ain't high! ' Man, I'm celebrating...
Now we in the car, she won't put on her seatbelt
Screaming at the top of her lungs： 'I need help! '
Weaving through traffic, minutes between contractions
Close your eyes right now, and you can see it happening
Imagine： she pulling on me 'stop I'm about to crash, shit! '
Butterflies in my stomach, heart beating fast as shit
Every time I have a kid, it's like the first time
Kids the best, but they be coming at the worst times
Now we here, Tiff get in the wheelchair
Butterflies still here - am I happy？ Hell yeah!
I parked the car, now I'm running through the halls lost
Trying to figure out which one of these rooms is ours
Think： damn... one of the nurses stuck her head out
They gave her an epideral so I pulled the couch bed out
Took a nap, woke up, they almost got the head out
She grabbing on the rails, looking like she about to pass out
Told her to breathe, grab my phone and hit record
'Breathe! 1, 2, 3, 4 - one more - 1, 2, 3, 4'
Push! C'mon Tea, push! God damn it, just push! '
Nurse coaching her, doctor pulling on shoulders
Giving me the notion to cut the umbilical
She out, 8 pounds 4 ounces
Hold up： I'm about to make an announcement
See, every time a child is born somebody leave the world
So I thank the woman who gave her life for my baby girl
21.Dr. Dre Outro
Lyricist：Not Applicable
Writer(s)：Not Applicable
This nigga been shot, but you already know that
He went to jail recently and Monster Kody taught him
'This ain't no place for you, you see bein' locked up 24 hours a
day
That shit ain't gangsta, you see bein' outside takin' care of
your family
That's the most gangsta shit a nigga could ever do'
He said 'The shit ideal for takin' em out the hood
Givin' em a chance to be some motherfuckin' body
Now that shit was gangsta'
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