Pet Semetery

(Man, Quik what they talkin 'bout?)
Man, they talkin 'bout R&B music
And gangsta rap is dead (WHAT?! Damn)
Ay, we need to go bury both of
Them muh'fuckers in the pet semetery
(Take 'em to Compton and Watts, then)

I hit the liquor depot, on Crenshaw
Where all the working class Gs' go
Around the corner from Greg house
On the next block
Knockin somethin down cause South Central
Got the best cot
And the flyest bitches live in ran down spots
That's why them niggaz be Piruin and Crippin
Tryin to protect that ghetto
Pussy they hittin
And you know what you gon' get when
You buy you a Quik beat
And you know what's gon' happen when
Yo' bitches and Quik meet
And I know that she gon' kiss and tell
She can't keep it quiet
Can't help it when the dick is swell
Have to admit it, it was good
She just gotta laugh like a parent
I put a whoopin on her bottom half
I'm a playa from the Himalayas
Niggaz don't agree, then them niggaz haters
I'm just tryin to be the
R&B savior with the instrumentals
Or go down like JFK in the Continental
The most underrated, so motherfuckin hate it
Anything I do for music's never celebrated
Y'all killin the game like pesticide
But DJ Quik is unpasteurized
My music is flawless, my lyrics is lawless
Your hood wouldn't be eating
I'm the reason for all this
Y'all tryin to say I got
My jaw broke in Compton
What kind of fake gangsta
Movies y'all be watchin?
That's some cowboy shit
This some now boy shit
With them rounds at your car
That's as loud as it's gon' get
Handle my lightweight
Get 'em embalmed in the crates
So don't FUCK with the great
You're much safer on skates
A thin ice with lead plates
I'm bout to reboot, g'on and recruit
Come thru and shoot
Make 'em scatter like SHOO!
So all that don't like me
You can suck a dick or somethin
Turn over on your stomach take
A dildo 'til you vomit
I know you niggaz crampin
I know the real you you keep fuckin with me
And I'm gon' kill you

Now what they wanna go
Cancel Arsenio Hall for?
Now he got no place to kick it
That's uncalled for
I'm a bad motherfucker cause my glock says so
But my wallet says Gucci, I'm a fly killa yo
Jewels on yo' ass, pullin tools on yo' ass
Recite a scripture 'fore I put
These B-B-BURRS in yo' ass
I'ma just let it, collect it with a bag
Put that in perspective
It's about a half O-Z of the OG
Gettin low key, rollin' more trees
In a hatchback chillin like it's '79
My lyrics so wicked, nigga, go and rewind
So, one more time
I'm from the world's most dangerous city
Back on the scene with no cracks on my screen
(yep)
I'm like an addict gettin back on that thing
If R&B is dead - nigga, rest in peace
But I'm still gon' write the shit
That makes the stress release preach