Geah
|
Some of that thug shit
|
Hoo-Bangin' Gangstas in the house
|
Representin' for the West
|
Compton one time
|
Check this out, uh
|
|
Geah
|
Hoo-Bangin' in the house
|
We gon' do it like this
|
Compton in the house
|
For all the thug niggas out there
|
Life ain't nuthin' but money and hot nines
|
Crooked hoes, keepin hid from one...
|
Check me out
|
|
Somebody help me out the ghetto
|
Cause there's some things I just can't let go, uh
|
My mind takes a twirl
|
Lord, I try to cope with it, but I scream: fucks the world!
|
Young nigga with dreams of schemes for the cash
|
But then awaken to the sounds of late nite gun blasts
|
My moms told my ass: hit the floor!
|
Before the hot ones echo through the window
|
Damn, why the fuck it's - my block
|
Graffiti lookin' greedy and niggas who slangin' rock
|
Fo' sho', I wanna be like that, fuck Mike
|
Unless Mike was on the corner with a strap at night
|
Gettin harrassed by the cops cause he's tryin' to make some dough
|
So he can push up from a Caddy and dumps the Pinto
|
So everybody in the hood can cops the lleyo
|
And I can collects the cash flow
|
|
Chrous:
|
|
Life ain't nuthin' but money and hot nines
|
Crooked hoes, keepin hid from one-time
|
You got your strap uh, I got mine
|
Takin you back to the time of '89
|
|
Pops sendin money in lines from out of state
|
But too late, I'm on the corner now way past eight
|
Better they be on the look out for dark head lights
|
Or get caught up in a twist of a long kiss goodnight
|
Love the days of gettin paid With the cavi I clock
|
When I roam the hard knocks are the court down block
|
Turnin tide, now you bitch niggas wanna trip
|
With a year-old Cutlass and a bag full of grips
|
Still dips the hood, stay true is what they tell me
|
Fuck you bitch-ass niggas, know the nina never fail me
|
Lord, forgive me cause sometimes I can't deal
|
With the pressures from the hood where the mentality to kill
|
Protects me and my kids next, that's real
|
Jealous-ass bitches cause y'all gots no skrill
|
Time will reveal
|
I be damned if I let y'all niggas stop my next meal
|
|
Chorus...
|
|
Now I sits in late nite spots and clock chips
|
With a bag of chips eatin loaded up extra clips
|
Watch out for the knock at the do'
|
Throw your money through the mail and pick up the damn blow
|
Quickly now, don't let the po-po show
|
Or I'm hitted to the spot where the moon don't blow
|
Life's a bitch, life's not a dance
|
Life's too short for my ass to try to chance
|
Last place niggas get caught for the fuckin dollars
|
Have your ass on G.R. while I dip Impalas
|
Blue-collar niggas sellin to white-collar fools
|
But I don't givin a fuck, y'all know cash rules
|
Pay ya dues, stay true to the street
|
Get your money, man, fo' sho' packs my heat
|
Told by the G'z that talk is cheap
|
But y'all know since the days I'm in too deep
|
C'mon
|
|
Chorus...
|
|
Hoo-Bangin' in the house, c'mon
|
You know the fuck we regulate
|
For all the thug niggas out there
|
Thug niggas on the block
|
Compton to the fullest
|
Hoo-Bangin' till I die, nigga
|
Check this out
|
|
Chorus...
|
|
Geah
|
Compton
|
Geah
|
Hoo-Bangin' to the fullest
|
Geah
|
|
-----------------
|
Dayz of '89
|
| MC Eiht |