What the Deal

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-

If I gotta ride (O-O-O-Okay, uh)
Then he's gonna die
(O-O-O-Okay, duck, niggas)

Uh (Get back) let me talk to 'em
Listen

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 there it 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, huh
They say the flow is crack
So wherever I rap best believe you
Can call it a dope spot, bitch

I'm gon' ride (O-O-O-Okay, uh)
And he's gonna die (O-O-O-Okay, duck, niggas)

It's that Compton shit, nigga