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  1. 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 nigga only sixteen
    And I wanted to be, just like him, middle school fightin
    Any nigga with a chip on his shoulder, whattup nigga?
    You want beef with me? Now I let the heat speak for me
    No more talkin, just outline chalkin
    Nigga Witta Attitude from birth, "100 Miles and Running"
    Gunnin bustin shots like fuck 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 niggaz rock
    Second comin of this black Alfred Hitchcock
    Kick in the door, wavin the four-four
    Ten shots to your spleen, let them violins sing

    [Chorus: Blue Chip + (The Game)]
    Yo, I'm just a ghetto nigga 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 fuck who you are, fuck ya ice
    Fuck the block that you claim, fuck your Bentley Azure
    (Dead presidents is all I represent)
    ('Til y'all met me y'all niggaz ain't met gangsta yet)

    [The Game]
    Fast cars, money and muscle, the hustle I was brought up in the 80's
    Gangbangin, dope traffic, shit get crazy
    From where niggaz grow up hard like dicks raised
    Them hustlin guns like Knicks 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
    Fuck 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
    Niggaz in the street move faster than, Michael Jackson's album
    But the shit don't really matter to me, we get better G
    Bet the four slow 'em down like PCP


    [The Game]
    Real gangsters never talk shit, handle they business
    Fuck the dry snitchin and bitchin, niggaz die when them bullets fly
    Who fuckin with him, ha? Not a nigga 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 frontlines holdin a 9
    Everyday a new chapter, my own niggaz plottin on me
    Tryin to hit me but they won't get me, feel the semi first
    Fuckin with my dough, is the worst way to go
    Y'all know, niggaz 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, piss on your corpse
    Watch your soul shiver, throw him in the river, bitch nigga