Some cool shit for the King's anthology And when I'm done, don't expect no apology Stupid motherfuckers shoulda stepped when I warned 'em I'm from the Boondocks of Compton, California I'm just anxious to whoop some ass I went to high school, but I flunked every class So what makes you think I give a fuck about respect? I'll put your bitch in check, and I'll bet You won't run up, son of a punk and a bitch, too I shoulda did a drive by on you and your crew Cuz ya'll be poppin' some shit that's unheard of For you, what's the word? Uh (wack!) it's murder, son When I be crushin' your hood with a passion And I ain't talkin' that Action Jackson When I come you better run for ammo Or get played like a fuckin' piano And yo, we got my homeboy Ice Cube in the house from the motherfuckin' Lench Mob (what's up, nigga?), and yo Ice Cube, I heard you're a singer now Man what's up? Yo, yo Do-Ray-Me. But I don't sing, mothafucker I kick shit with the King, mothafucker Ice Cube will clock the cash, rock the mass And if you run up, I'll sock your ass And watch that eye get swollen Cuz I'm playin' punk niggas like Beethoven So bust a cap or swing and die Fuck Yul Brynner, it's still The King and I Cuz where I'm from the sun don't shine So One-Time hope I only bust one rhyme But I bust one more for the suckers Last year I was Ruthless, now I'm Lenchin' mothafuckers And you'll see in a tree, MCs and crews Now they're lookin' for me, King Tee, and Pooh Now every nigga that crossed me's soprano Cuz I played their ass like a fuckin' piano Yo, check this out, we got my homeboy Breeze in the Motherfuckin' house from the L.A. Posse and he got some shit to holler Come On, man, bust this shit Well, I'm-a take the mic like it was a jack move Run with the beat as long as the track moves Hot as lava, organized like a seminar Serve you, your crew, him, and them and a Couple of rap-saps who think they can get butt You slipped and shit, so nitwit, just get the nuts Stealin' your high hopes, watchin' you write notes Better walk a chalk line, not fuckin' a tightrope Rap slicker, thicker, quicker than others, then I stop swift Shift from 1st to 5th, while you stop to shoplift Take the mic stand whenever the duty calls If I bust a nut for every rhyme I had, I'd get blue balls Serious as drama, I'm-a watch her say "Me too." You're shorter than Michu, your rhymes are see-through You're nothin' like GQ, transparent, I made it apparent I'm here to wax and tax the incoherent Cuz B-R-E-E-Z-E will eas-i-ly re-main to be-e a top MC When you see me, I wear a beanie, and not a Kangol Now you got played, like a fuckin' piano This is just a sample of three black nig-roes Who grew up in the heart of the ghetto Doin' what we had to just to make ends meet Some steal for a livin', some stand on the street Just slang. Some gang-bang, but big deal They say in Compton, you gotta kill or get killed Mothafuckin' police pull ya over, slam ya down Then tell ya that your hood is their town And I ain't goin' for no shit like that; Cuff me up, take me to jail, I'll come back Talkin' much shit, cuz I talk what the fuck I feel A few weeks in the county ain't no big deal So a punk like you can't fuck with me That big ballin'-ass nigga named King Tee You think ya can? I don't think that you can, though Peace to Ice Cube and Breeze, and the fuckin' pianoTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.