If Pirus and Crips all got along/ They'd probably gun me down by the end of this song/ Seem like the whole city go against me/ Every time I'm in the street I hear/ "YAWK! YAWK! YAWK! YAWK!"/ "Man down. Where you from, nigga?"/ "Fuck who you know, where you from my nigga?"/ "Where your grandma stay, huh, my nigga?"/ This m.A.A.d city I run, my nigga/ Brace yourself, I'll take you on a trip down memory lane/ This is not a rap on how I'm slinging crack or move cocaine/ This is cul-de-sac and plenty Cognac and major pain/ Not the drill sergeant, but the stress that weighing on your brain/ It was me, O-Boogy, Yaya, YG Lucky ride down Rosecrans/ It got ugly, waving your hand out the window. Check yo self/ Uh, warriors and Conans/ Hope euphoria can slow dance with society/ The driver seat the first one to get killed/ Seen a light-skinned nigga with his brains blown out/ At the same burger stand, where *censored* hang out/ Now this is not a tape recorder saying that he did it/ But ever since that day, I was looking at him different/ That was back when I was nine/ Joey packed the nine/ Pack to stand on every porch is fine/ We adapt to crime, pack a van with four guns at a time/ With the sliding door, fuck is up?/ Fuck you shooting for if you ain't walking up?/ You fucking punk, picking up the fucking pump/ Picking off you suckers, suck a dick or die or sucker punch/ A wall of bullets coming from/ AK's, AR's, "aye y'all. Duck."/ That's what momma said when we was eating that free lunch/ Aw man, God damn, all hell broke loose/ You killed my cousin back in '94. Fuck yo truce/ Now crawl yo head in that noose/ You wind up dead on the news/ Ain't no peace treaty, just pieces/ BG's up to pre-approve, bodies on top of bodies/ IV's on top of IV's/ Obviously the coroner between the sheets like the Isleys/ When you hop on that trolley/ Make sure your colors correct/ Make sure you're corporate, or they'll be calling your mother collect/ They say the governor collect, all of our taxes except/ When we in traffic and tragic happens, that shit ain't no threat/ You moving backwards if you suggest that you sleep with a Tec/ Go buy a chopper and have a doctor on speed dial, I guess/ M.A.A.d city/ "Man down/ Where you from, nigga?"/ "Fuck who you know, where you from my nigga?"/ "Where your grandma stay, huh, my nigga?"/ This m.A.A.d city I run, my nigga."/ If Pirus and Crips all got along/ They'd probably gun me down by the end of this song/ Seem like the whole city go against me/ Every time I'm in the street I hear/ “YAWK! YAWK! YAWK!/ Wake yo punk ass up!/ It ain't nothing but a Compton thang/ Chyea/ Real simple and plain/ I'm a teach you some lessons about the street/ It ain't nothing but a Compton thang/ Chyea/ How we do/ Fresh outta school cause I was a high school grad/ Sleeping in the living room in my momma's pad/ Reality struck I seen the white car crash/ Hit the light pole two nigga's hopped out on foot and dashed/ My Pops said I needed a job I thought I believed him/ Security guard for a month and ended up leaving/ In fact I got fired because I was inspired by all of my friends/ To stage a robbery the third Saturday I clocked in/ Projects tore up, gang signs get thrown up/ Cocaine laced in marijuana/ And they wonder why I rarely smoke now/ Imagine if your first blunt had you foaming at the mouth/ I was straight tweaking the next weekend we broke even/ I made a legion then made a promise to see you bleeding/ You know the reasons but still won't ever know my life/ Kendrick AKA Compton's human sacrifice/ Cocaine, weed/ Nigga's been mixing shit since the 80's loc/ Sherm sticks, butt nakeds/ Dip/ Make a nigga flip/ Cluck heads all up and down the block and shit/ One time's crooked and shit/ Block a nigga in/ Alondra, Rosecrans, Bullis, it's Compton/ I'm still in the hood/ Loc yeah that's cool/ The hood took me under so I follow the rules/ But yeah that's like me, I grew up in the hood where they bang/ And niggas that rep colors is doing the same thing/ Pass it to the left so I can smoke on me/ A couple drive-bys in the hood lately/ Couple of IV's with the fucking spraycan/ Shots in the crowd then everybody ran/ Crew I'm finna slay, the street life I crave/ Shots hit the enemy, harsh turn brave/ Mount up regulators in the whip/ Down the boulevard with the pistol grip/ Trip, we in the hood still/ So loc, grab a strap cause yeah, it's so real/ Deal with the outcome, a strap in the hand/ And a bird and 10 grand's where motherfuckers stand/ If I told you I killed a nigga at 16, would you believe me?/ Or see me to be innocent Kendrick that you seen in the street/ With a basketball and some Now & Laters to eat/ If I'm mashing all of my skeletons, would you jump in the seat?/ Would you say my intelligence now is great relief?/ And it's safe to say that our next generation maybe can sleep/ With dreams of being a lawyer or doctor/ Instead of boy with a chopper that hold the cul de sac hostage/ Kill them all if they gossip, the Children of the Corn/ They realizing the option of living a lie, drive they body with toxins/ Constantly drinking and drive, hit the powder then watch this flame/ That arrive in his eye; this a coward, the concept is aim and/ They bang it and slide out that bitch with deposits/ And the price on his head, the tots probably go to the projects/ I live inside the belly of the rough/ Compton, U.S.A. made Me an Angel on Angel Dust, what/ [Skit]/