[Verse 1]
You never knew a plug, plug, plug, a plug like this
Sophisticated gangsta, watch me thug like this
Snatch your, uh, in a club like this
Seven zeros, need my pub like this
Stuck in a rock in a hard place
I am thinkin' I won't bump y'all up, well, I am
I got to get my thing off
My style come from Devin the Dude, Kurupt, 2
And James Brown with his fist crossed
I fluctuate the vocals like Prince Rogers
Whoever thought a billionaire come out of Compton?
Multiply simple logic, it's rules you can follow
If Dre ain't motivation, I don't know who is
Gift and a curse, maybe them shoes is too big
Or maybe I'm too pessimistic to know I'm gifted
Chasin' hood rat brownie points and bullshittin'
I dropped the four on 'em, scrapin', hopped a four on 'em
Grab my dick and pour on 'em
Yeah, homie, I'm still talkin' that whoop-de-whoop
Hoppin' out on my enemies, I know who to shoot
Back when my homies where I need to be
Such a familiar sceneries, I smell the gun smoke
I watched a homie watch his son smoke
I seen the sun set on my set
I seen one 'Ru and one Loc, one slip and one played him close
Everythin' subject to change
Nowadays, the Compton Crip car kill each other
Faster than an opposite color
Homies whack out everythin', you're dead, homie
It's your mother, your uncle and brother
If God was a Loc, he'd probably had one comin'
Damn, that's fucked up, I guess it is
When you can't trust not a soul inside these streets
I made a video out there in Copenhagen, so the homies can see
To let 'em know it's more than just Pamela Lee
They said, "Good looking"
Paused the video the moment his phone ring
That fast dollar was his only problem
No matter how many times I showed him the Eiffel Tower
The block was home and Africa was too far for power
Then I knew
You never knew a plug, plug, plug, a plug like this
Sophisticated gangsta, watch me thug like this
Snatch your, uh, in a club like this
Seven zeros, need my pub like this
Stuck in a rock in a hard place
I am thinkin' I won't bump y'all up, well, I am
I got to get my thing off
My style come from Devin the Dude, Kurupt, 2
And James Brown with his fist crossed
I fluctuate the vocals like Prince Rogers
Whoever thought a billionaire come out of Compton?
Multiply simple logic, it's rules you can follow
If Dre ain't motivation, I don't know who is
Gift and a curse, maybe them shoes is too big
Or maybe I'm too pessimistic to know I'm gifted
Chasin' hood rat brownie points and bullshittin'
I dropped the four on 'em, scrapin', hopped a four on 'em
Grab my dick and pour on 'em
Yeah, homie, I'm still talkin' that whoop-de-whoop
Hoppin' out on my enemies, I know who to shoot
Back when my homies where I need to be
Such a familiar sceneries, I smell the gun smoke
I watched a homie watch his son smoke
I seen the sun set on my set
I seen one 'Ru and one Loc, one slip and one played him close
Everythin' subject to change
Nowadays, the Compton Crip car kill each other
Faster than an opposite color
Homies whack out everythin', you're dead, homie
It's your mother, your uncle and brother
If God was a Loc, he'd probably had one comin'
Damn, that's fucked up, I guess it is
When you can't trust not a soul inside these streets
I made a video out there in Copenhagen, so the homies can see
To let 'em know it's more than just Pamela Lee
They said, "Good looking"
Paused the video the moment his phone ring
That fast dollar was his only problem
No matter how many times I showed him the Eiffel Tower
The block was home and Africa was too far for power
Then I knew
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