[Intro]
DogPound Gangsters! Yeah, nigga! Ride!
[Verse 1: DJ Quik]
I come from the darkness, the hardest place ever to mark this
Body outline chalk-style, look at the carcass (creep with me!)
As I roll you down the dimly lit, ever tinted streets of Compton
A place where niggas throw grenades in the cemetery
I don't even get it The hatred is pretty scary
And since everybody's with it
Tends to get a lil' blurry 'til there's nothing right
Niggas out in this calm again
To the niggas on the porch smokin' bomb again
Now they could be in the suburbs on them brightly painted curbs
Puffin' the herb and lookin' for somebody to swerve on, but no!
It's back to the hood again where
The enemys prospects look good again
Where the packs keep moving and the products got us caught up
And fuckin' our own lot up in heaven, our own niggas shot up
It ain't us, wake up, it ain't us, wake up
[Verse 2: Jamie Madrox]
From something to nothing and truly amazing
Like whimsical brushlines on Bob Ross paintings
But this is psycho art
Meaning the portrait would consists
Of body parts of unsuspecting victims
A leg and an arm, a face and a mouth-hung
Becomes the canvas for us to recite the convo
Exchange chains like cinnabites and hook flesh
Now you're covered in blood my don't you look fresh
Picture it perfect like a photo shoot
Rehearse, research the product and spit it up in the vocal booth
Mellow-dramatic, an act of wickedness!
In the essence that we exude to treat you people like a sickness!
DogPound Gangsters! Yeah, nigga! Ride!
[Verse 1: DJ Quik]
I come from the darkness, the hardest place ever to mark this
Body outline chalk-style, look at the carcass (creep with me!)
As I roll you down the dimly lit, ever tinted streets of Compton
A place where niggas throw grenades in the cemetery
I don't even get it The hatred is pretty scary
And since everybody's with it
Tends to get a lil' blurry 'til there's nothing right
Niggas out in this calm again
To the niggas on the porch smokin' bomb again
Now they could be in the suburbs on them brightly painted curbs
Puffin' the herb and lookin' for somebody to swerve on, but no!
It's back to the hood again where
The enemys prospects look good again
Where the packs keep moving and the products got us caught up
And fuckin' our own lot up in heaven, our own niggas shot up
It ain't us, wake up, it ain't us, wake up
[Verse 2: Jamie Madrox]
From something to nothing and truly amazing
Like whimsical brushlines on Bob Ross paintings
But this is psycho art
Meaning the portrait would consists
Of body parts of unsuspecting victims
A leg and an arm, a face and a mouth-hung
Becomes the canvas for us to recite the convo
Exchange chains like cinnabites and hook flesh
Now you're covered in blood my don't you look fresh
Picture it perfect like a photo shoot
Rehearse, research the product and spit it up in the vocal booth
Mellow-dramatic, an act of wickedness!
In the essence that we exude to treat you people like a sickness!
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