Lord, theres guns like the audience you put on a show, my 40 clearly applauds sittin' fifth row, I might appear to be bored plotting on a Kanye, but
Bob sits at home and smokes pot but his twelve-year old brother looks up to him an awful lot And Bob likes to hang out at the local waffle spot and wait
m still cool wit Then I got these fake-ass niggaz I first drew with Claimin that they non-violent, talkin like they *voice sample* Spit venom in interviews, speakin on
turned on the SpectraVision And I'm just about to eat that little chocolate mint on my pillow That I love so very, very much when suddenly, there's a knock on
slide Let me ride, just another homicide Yeah it's me so I'ma talk on Stompin on the 'Eazy'est streets that you can walk on So strap on your Compton
City open Juan got that shit to Quincy Jones through a chick named Mona Three days later Q called us back and it was on Q told us to wait on putting the
We Are The Black Gang Free Shye Mother Fuckers! (He Wears A Red Bandana) [Chorus:] On The Front Of Murder Dog (He Wears A) On The Cover Of The Source
And chill mode can turn into somebody gettin' steel-toed We be hangin' on the block 'til dawn Stayin' spaced out like Dr. Octagon Feelin' for
they talk to me like enow and everyday Axin' me what's up with Eazy Or Dr. Dre, yo did he marry Miss She'ly? Or did the D.O.C get his voice back, And
