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lirik lagu game - i'm looking

i’m from compton where them guns bust, watch poppa george pop
cats tellin’ jokes at them car games seen big face hundreds
handle the rock like nate archibald, what? this n-gg- only sixteen
and i wanted to be, just like him middle school fightin’

any n-gg- with a chip on his shoulder, whattup n-gg-?
you want beef with me? now i let the heat speak for me
no more talkin’, just outline chalkin’
n-gg- witta att-tude from birth, 100 miles and running

gunnin’ bustin’ shots like f-ck the cops
notorious for burnin’ blocks, weavin’ in and out of traffic and chop
game the young robin hood of the block
steal from the rich, give to the poor, coward n-gg-z rock

second comin’ of this black alfred hitchc-ck
kick in the door wavin’ the four-four
ten shots to your spleen
let them violins sing

yo, i’m just a ghetto n-gg- stuck in this game
young’uns runnin’ with ‘caine
rain hits so we floodin’ the game
when you come to compton respect the grounds, leave you shook man
(and i look good, from compton to brooklyn)

hey yo i don’t give a f-ck who you are, f-ck ya ice
f-ck the block that you claim, f-ck your bentley azure
(dead presidents is all i represent)
(’til y’all met me y’all n-gg-z ain’t met gangsta yet)

fast cars, money and muscle, the hustle i was brought up in the 80’s
g-ngb-ngin’, dope traffic, sh-t get crazy
from where n-gg-z grow up hard like d-cks raised
them hustlin’ guns like nicks players, we got mouths to feed

’til they put flowers on me, moms kiss my cold cheek
in that pine box, i’m buyin’ rocks, eyein’ cops
f-ck a cell block, the young kid makin’ it happen
who you think got them fiends runnin’ back like bo jackson?

i’m a gangsta, what else could i say?
i’m ahead of myself like it’s y4k
2pac, scarface, n.w.a.
taught me how to dodge them bullets, keep my wig in play

keep fo’ snug in the waist or pay a thousand to have ’em
n-gg-z in the street move faster than, michael jackson’s alb-m
but the sh-t don’t really matter to me, we get better g
bet the four slow ’em down like pcp

real gangsters never talk sh-t, handle they business
f-ck the dry snitchin’ and b-tchin’, n-gg-z die when them bullets fly
who f-ckin’ with him, ha? not a n-gg- alive
end up dead in that 5

he got no sympathy for them dead guys, friend or foe
watch that chest cave in, what that vest savin’?
make it sloppy for the autopsy, leave my enemies in a frenzy
on the front lines holdin’ a 9

everyday a new chapter, my own n-gg-z plottin’ on me
tryin’ to hit me but they won’t get me
feel the semi first f-ckin’ with my dough, is the worst way to go
y’all know, n-gg-z cry when them bullets burn slow dummy

in and out of spots watchin’ my money
if one dollar come up missin’ bodies start to come up missin’
no one too heavy for the expedition, p-ss on your corpse
watch your soul shiver, throw him in the river, b-tch n-gg-

yo, i’m just a ghetto n-gg- stuck in this game
young’uns runnin’ with ‘caine
rain hits so we floodin the game
when you come to compton respect the grounds, leave you shook man
(and i look good, from compton to brooklyn)

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