Lyrics

[Intro] Uh-huh, yeah You know what it is Uh-uh It's that Compton shit, nigga Get back, uh I tell you, I swear it's- [Chorus] If I gotta ride (O-O-O-Okay, uh) Then he's gonna die (O-O-O-Okay, duck, niggas) [Interlude] Uh (Get back) Let me talk to 'em Listen [Verse] I hope niggas ain't really tryin' to break my bones 'Cause if you are, make sure you know a nickname you want for that tombstone Play hard as a rock, bullets can break stones Break bad boys down like Jenny did Sean Combs I'm hot as an oven, you just a pressin' comb I'm not impressed homes, you should've stayed home And prayed that rooftop blocked you from gettin' shitted on I gives a fuck if A&R's don't pick up the phone, huh I swear there's no one like me But if it is, then I got a long lost twin, or they made me a clone I don't care about friends, I was made to be on my own I came in this world by myself, and I'm leavin' alone Hopefully with a crib that I can call my own With a backyard the size of the fuckin' Georgia Dome, pop You pop shit, then I might pop your dome Give your homies a reason to make a memory song, huh Niggas swear that they love when the beef is on Knowin' that plummet time the only time he'll roam You better hold your breath, I give you walkin' death And recommend the gun bein' your chaperone I know young niggas that look up to Al Capone And they look seventeen, but I swear that their mind is grown, shit I'm so grown and the reason why I write this way Pac and Big be ghostwritin' my songs, huh You can play the boss But if you get shot from bein' on top Then, homie, that's your loss, shit I'm nice wit' it I'll pop your man then leave some money on him so it can pay for his funeral costs, get it? The niggas tryin' to get money like Fort Knox Either from the rap shit or back down to the cut rock And you can play a baller but deep inside you know you just an actor Yeah, somethin' like Rick Fox, huh You ain't a thug, homie, you just a fox In the midst of werewolves somewhere in the Boondocks And I'm really from the streets So if I ask for beef, homeboy, don't bring me no pork chop I turn your skin to pork, homie, with one chop With a rusty switchblade that's dirty like bum socks, ha They say the flow is crack So wherever I rap, best believe you can call it a dope spot, bitch, bitch, I swear [Chorus] I'm gon' ride (Yeah, y'all know what it is) And he's gotta die (Uh, bitch) [Outro] It's that Compton shit, niggas (Get back) Uh, oh K.Dot (Huh, uh huh) Oh, oh, oh, oh K.Dot Money by any means, nigga