[Intro: Pharrell Williams, DJ Drama, & tags]
Go get my shit, nigga (Hey)
Haha, this is some West Coast shit (Yessir, hey)
The iPod King
And the Yessir Man
Hey
Haha
Gangsta Gri-Zillz!
[Verse: Pharrell Williams, DJ Drama, & tags]
Rest in peace, Tookie
I didn't know you, but my man, Jamie, absolutely
Plus, my man, Snoopy (A dedication!)
Whether you were guilty or not, they terminated you, truthfully
You scribbled on your loose-leaf to try to make the youth see
Not the bangin', if you died, don't riot
Shh, listen to the radio, be quiet
I think that Crip niggas and Blood bitches should have a lovechild
I know that'd make Big Boy and Fuzz smile
If you born of the wound, then you are a blood child
And where do you live? Your Crip—I mean, "crib"
Same noun, same verb, same adjective
And die of gunshots, drugs, cancer, or HIV
See, Jay was right when he was like, "Can I live?"
Young bangers in the street, man, and they don't miss
I had a soon-to-be-rider on my skate team
But haters is insomniacs, you know, they hate the dream
From the LBC, you think he escaped that, right?
'Cause he skate? Hell, no, man, they killed Black Mike
Him and T skated my ramp, man, that was my last memory
Went back to Cali', man, they took the boy instantly (Gangsta Gri-Zillz!)
That was hard on my boy, Terry Kennedy (My nigga, Terry Kennedy, what up?)
Lost his ma, lost his pa
Bullet in his jaw, gun charge, man, a gun in the car
I get a call, I can hear the tears of his grandma
Then God was like, "Nah, leave him alone, he's one of ours
He's got wings on his back, and he's destined for the stars"
Catch 'em in the Beverly Center, gettin' in his car
It's funny, when the nigga smile, you could see the scar
But that don't make him proud, he'd rather get a crowd
Fifteen stair-rails, holdin' his dick, screamin' loud
I'm just spittin', ain't tryna bug, you know
We ain't perfect but, He still love you, though
Go get my shit, nigga (Hey)
Haha, this is some West Coast shit (Yessir, hey)
The iPod King
And the Yessir Man
Hey
Haha
Gangsta Gri-Zillz!
[Verse: Pharrell Williams, DJ Drama, & tags]
Rest in peace, Tookie
I didn't know you, but my man, Jamie, absolutely
Plus, my man, Snoopy (A dedication!)
Whether you were guilty or not, they terminated you, truthfully
You scribbled on your loose-leaf to try to make the youth see
Not the bangin', if you died, don't riot
Shh, listen to the radio, be quiet
I think that Crip niggas and Blood bitches should have a lovechild
I know that'd make Big Boy and Fuzz smile
If you born of the wound, then you are a blood child
And where do you live? Your Crip—I mean, "crib"
Same noun, same verb, same adjective
And die of gunshots, drugs, cancer, or HIV
See, Jay was right when he was like, "Can I live?"
Young bangers in the street, man, and they don't miss
I had a soon-to-be-rider on my skate team
But haters is insomniacs, you know, they hate the dream
From the LBC, you think he escaped that, right?
'Cause he skate? Hell, no, man, they killed Black Mike
Him and T skated my ramp, man, that was my last memory
Went back to Cali', man, they took the boy instantly (Gangsta Gri-Zillz!)
That was hard on my boy, Terry Kennedy (My nigga, Terry Kennedy, what up?)
Lost his ma, lost his pa
Bullet in his jaw, gun charge, man, a gun in the car
I get a call, I can hear the tears of his grandma
Then God was like, "Nah, leave him alone, he's one of ours
He's got wings on his back, and he's destined for the stars"
Catch 'em in the Beverly Center, gettin' in his car
It's funny, when the nigga smile, you could see the scar
But that don't make him proud, he'd rather get a crowd
Fifteen stair-rails, holdin' his dick, screamin' loud
I'm just spittin', ain't tryna bug, you know
We ain't perfect but, He still love you, though
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