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作曲 : Kendrick Duckworth, M. Spears, R Riera, A. Morgan & A. Tyler |
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If Pirus and Crips all got along |
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They'd probably gun me down by the end of this song |
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Seem like the whole city go against me |
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Every time I'm in the street I hear |
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"YAWK! YAWK! YAWK! YAWK!" |
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"Man down |
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Where you from, nigga?" |
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"**** who you know, where you from my nigga?" |
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"Where your grandma stay, huh, my nigga?" |
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This m.A.A.d city I run, my nigga |
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Brace yourself, I'll take you on a trip down memory lane |
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This is not a rap on how I'm slingin crack or move cocaine |
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This is cul-de-sac and plenty Cognac and major pain |
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Not the drill sergeant, but the stress that weighing on your brain |
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It was Me, O-Boog, and Yaya, YG Lucky ride down Rosecrans |
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It got ugly, waving your hand out the window. Check yo self |
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Uh, warriors and Conans |
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Hope euphoria can slow dance with society |
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The driver seat the first one to get killed |
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Seen a light-skinned nigga with his brains blown out |
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At the same burger stand, where hang out |
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Now this is not a tape recorder saying that he did it |
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But ever since that day, I was lookin at him different |
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That was back when I was nine |
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Joey packed the nine |
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Pakistan on every porch is fine |
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We adapt to crime, pack a van with four guns at a time |
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With the sliding door, **** is up? |
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**** you shootin for if you ain't walkin up? |
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You ****in punk, pickin up the ****in pump |
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Pickin off you suckers, suck a dick or die or sucker punch |
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Or warn the bullets comin from |
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AK's, AR's, "aye y'all. Duck." |
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That's what momma said when we was eatin the free lunch |
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Aw man, God damn, all hell broke loose |
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You killed my cousin back in '94. **** yo truce |
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Now crawl yo head in that noose |
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You wind up dead on the news |
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Ain't no peace treaty, just pieces |
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BG's up to pre-approve, bodies on top of bodies |
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IV's on top of IV's |
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Obviously the coroner between the sheets like the Isleys |
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When you hop on that trolley |
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Make sure your colors correct |
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Make sure you're cornbread, or they'll be calling your mother collect |
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They say the governor collect, all of our taxes except |
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When we in traffic and tragic happens, that shit ain't no threat |
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You movin backwards if you suggest that you sleep wit a Tec |
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Go buy a chopper and have a doctor on speed dial, I guess |
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M.A.A.d city |
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"Man down |
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Where you from, nigga?" |
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"**** who you know, where you from my nigga?" |
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"Where your grandma stay, huh, my nigga?" |
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This m.A.A.d city like, "Run, my nigga." |
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If Pirus and Crips all got along |
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They'd probably gun me down by the end of this song |
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Seem like the whole city go against me |
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Every time I'm in the street I hear |
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"YAWK! YAWK! YAWK! |
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Wake yo punk ass up! |
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It ain't nothin but a Compton thang |
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Chyea |
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Real simple and plain |
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I'mma teach you some lessons about the street |
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It ain't nothin but a Compton thang |
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Chyea |
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How we do |
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Fresh outta school cause I was a high school grad |
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Sleeping in the living room in my momma's pad |
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Reality struck I seen the white car crash |
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Hit the light pole two nigga's hopped out on foot and dashed |
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My Pops said I needed a job I thought I believed him |
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Security guard for a month and ended up leaving |
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In fact I got fired because I was inspired by all of my friends |
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To stage a robbery the third Saturday I clocked in |
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Projects tore up, gang signs get thrown up |
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Cocaine laced in marijuana |
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And they wonder why I rarely smoke now |
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Imagine if your first blunt had you foaming at the mouth |
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I was straight tweaking the next weekend we broke even |
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I made a legion then made a promise to see you bleeding |
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You know the reasons but still won't ever know my life |
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Kendrick AKA Compton's human sacrifice |
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Cocaine, weed |
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Nigga's been mixing shit since the 80's loc |
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Shine sticks, buck nakeds |
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Make a nigga flip |
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Cluck heads all up and down the block and shit |
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One time's crooked and shit |
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Block a nigga in |
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Alondra, Rosecrans, Bullis |
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I'm still in the hood |
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Loc yeah that's cool |
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The hood took me under so I follow the rules |
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But yeah that's like me, I grew up in the hood where they bang |
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And niggas that rep colors is doing the same thing |
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Pass it to the left so I can smoke on me |
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A couple drive-bys in the hood lately |
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Couple of IV's with the ****ing spraycan |
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Shots in the crowd then everybody ran |
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Crew I'm finna slay, the street life I crave |
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Shots hit the enemy, harsh turn brave |
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Mount up regulators in the whip |
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Down the boulevard with the pistol grip |
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Trip, we in the hood still |
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So loc, grab a strap cause yeah, it's so real |
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Deal with the outcome, a strap in the hand |
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And a bird and 10 grand's where mother****ers stand |
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If I told you I killed a nigga at 16, would you believe me? |
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Or see me to be innocent Kendrick that you seen in the street |
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With a basketball and some Now & Laters to eat |
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If I'm mashing all of my skeletons, would you jump in the seat? |
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Would you say my intelligence now is great relief? |
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And it's safe to say that our next generation maybe can sleep |
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With dreams of being a lawyer or doctor |
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Instead of boy with a chopper that hold the cul de sac hostage |
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Kill them all if they gossip, the Children of the Corn |
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They realizing the option of living a lie, drive they body with toxins |
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Constantly drinking and drive, hit the powder then watch this flame |
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That arrive in his eye; this a coward, the concept is aim and |
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They bang it and slide out that bitch with the pies |
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And the price on his head, the tots probably go to the projects |
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I live inside the belly of the rough |
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Compton, U.S.A. made Me an Angel on Angel Dust, what |
