When We Wuz Bangin' 1989-1999: The Hitz [Clean]

Geah...wutup niggas
The compton cyco is back
In your shit for the nine deuce
And check this out
My nigga Scarface is in the motherfuckin house
And we bout to drop some gangsta shit

I guess its true what they say
When your too far gone ain't no turning back.
And coming from the Compton mack that's a fuckin fact.
Livin' in the city where bitches won't
Give up the pussy for free so a nigga don't.
So here's my story. Another story about a nigga
Who lives his life by the fuckin trigga.
Gotta get my serve on, nigga you don't hear me though
Throw up the hood, might blast on 5-0.
First I hit the Ides and get pumped up.
Now I'm rollin in the car kinda slumped up.
I pop the glove box, Then I reach the block,
Then I plug your ass in the chest with the glock.
And that's how the shits get done,
I guess I'm a mutherfuckin nigga on the run.
But I won't let them take me alive, so I don't sleep
'Cause, geah, I'm in too deep.

In too deep, ain't no turnin back.
Cock up your mutherfuckin gauge.

Mista-Mista Scarface for the nine-deuce,
Niggas pack a nine, fuck you bitch I pack a nine too.
Millimeter Ruger for you hoes who try to flex nuts,
You point your shit, I pull my shit, come nigga now lets check nuts.
Born a hustla, raised a hustla, never gonna stop trick.
Buck a hustla, mutherfucker boy, you better die bitch.
Found myself a busta, had the boy front me an Oz.
Fucked him out his money, worked my way up to a whole key.
Now he's got some niggas trying to ball 'Face
Time to go to work, need some back' better call Eiht.
Call my nigga up, Kicked the fundementals.
2 way ticket 3 o'clock, continental.
Eiht rolled in with the mutherfuckin task force,
Bucked them hoes off, dropped him off at the airport
Niggas don't ever fuck with me 'cause I'm a nigga who plays the game for
Keeps,
Drop you on your ass with the quickness, 'cause I'm in too deep.

Geeah, the criminals is in the mutherfuckin house..

Now they got us on the run, but we tired of runnin
Got the glocks all cocked, let the fools keep coming.
Scarface got the mutherfuckin pump under the seat.
So niggas better duck or your ass is fucked. geah.
The mad man with nuthin to lose.
So you better bring your strap or catch the blues.
And um, or get served like a damn clucker,
Sucker, or in the end be a short mutherfucker.
Now them one times is all on my back and
Heard that Scarface and Eiht peeled the cap and
They want to gaffle us up. But its a shame.
Can't fade the best from Compton and the mid-west.
So watch your back when the niggas step.
'Cause the scene that is left is your whole families death.
And fool don't sleep,
'Cause sorry mutherfucker, we in too deep.

Geah. In your shit for the nine-deuce.
MC Eiht in the mutherfuckin house, and my nigga Scarface and shit.
DJ Slip in mutherfuckin house. And we killin the shit off. Geah.

[Chorus]
Kill 'em all
Kill 'em all
Kill 'em all
Kill 'em all
'cause everybody dyin' on this mothafuckin' album
Kill 'em all
Kill 'em all
Kill 'em all
Kill 'em all
Don't kick up in the dirt when I'm puttin' in work
Kill 'em all
Kill 'em all
Kill 'em all
Kill 'em all
'cause everybody dyin' on this mothafuckin' album

I murda like this (this)
I murda like that (that)
Pull an AK-47 up out my mothafuckin' gangsta hat
Professional, Columbian, necktiea, barbwire
Strangula, over killa, dead fuckin' body hanga
Peepin' out the window with an AK
Pullin' up on these coppas
Helicoptas, squad cars, squat 10's with choppas
They tellin' me "nigga, get the fuck out before ya die
If you surrender, we'll make sure that you quickly fry"
Should I kick open the door and go to war
Or should I stick my throat
Leave a pipe bomb and a fuck you note
Hallucinations of seein' lynched bodies burnin'
And all the po-po had faces like Mark Furhman
Tear gas through my glass window pane
They want to put me back up in the nut house again
But I'm not goin' back and take my Prozac
They can keep the straight jacket
And leave a straight mothafuckin' jack
A straight mothafuckin' jack
A straight mothafuckin' jack

[Chorus]

(Get the hell off my dick, I'm 1990-sick)
(1990-sick)
(1990-sick)
(1990-sick)
(1990-sick)

Nigga's to pull the lynch
Yayo case and stick
Marcia Clark screamin' out murda, jumpin' on Oj's dick
Muthafuckas still sufferin' and healin'
Some high tech knowledga white boys blew up the fuckin' fed buildin'
Crazy niggas still bangin' and slangin' crack
To the death, when the game put 'em up on they back
Muthafuckas catchin' names, from shootin' high
And phony niggas still get sprayed up on the block
And I ain't changed much, hell
I'm still smokin' four or five mothafuckin' choppas before it's twelve
Muthafuckas think they know me, but they don't know
I'm sellin' first class tickets to the murda show
Don't want to rap about no nigga, let's get it on
bustin' domes, buck shots through your rib bone
So all you niggas up in the magazines talkin' shit
Get off my dick, I'm 1990-sick

[Chorus]

Muh-uh-mobbin' up out the see you-uh-cut
With a ready to pow one
Nuh-uh-90 sick content of the album
If there's a cure for this, don't cure me
I'm comin' with the fury
Playa hata's gettin' hung up like a jury
So peep the game from an old school G you know so well
The east bay gangsta, leaving caution tape and faces pale
I bails on a full moon like the 12 o clock
Neighborhood watch scared to look and see who on the block
Just fed a rally's, no po-po come around here
'cause it's a different time, different game, different year
1990 sick

[Chorus: x2]

(Get the hell off my dick, I'm 1990-sick)
(1990-sick)
(1990-sick)
(1990-sick)
(1990-sick)

Wake your punk ass up
The M.C Eiht's back in the motherfuckin' house
Kickin' the straight gangster shit, for the 9,1
You know what I'm sayin', gia

Growing up in the hood, yea boy
1984, was the year my peers didn't know, what was in store
A little hard head kid came abade
Time to pay my dues, learn the tricks of the trade

And at home it's the same ass story
Mom's treatin' me like she don't even know me
But my younger brother's got much clout
I can't take this shit, so, I bones the hell out

And roll with the pack of wicked motherfuckers
No shorts are taken, we're down black brothers
A little nigga with no problems at all
Fucked up and killed my first 8-ball

Quick up the stairs, so, little sucker stop lookin'
Stagger to the house, so, I can collect my whoopin'
But watch out 'cause a little nigga's up to no good
Growin' up in the hood

Life ain't nothin but bitches and money
'Cause in the city you live and let die
Nutting but bitches and money

I got hard times and will I escape, sometimes I wonder
But, it just seems that the hood, that took me under
Police sweat my tip and keep harassin'
Trying to lock me up 'cause I keep on blastin'

Community tryin' to shut me out
But the money keeps flowin' and I got much clout
With the cluckers, the brother back street punk suckers
Try to break me out fool, you be a short motherfucker

Always strappin', eager to peal a cap
I set up a trap, put your foot to a nap
'Cause I grew up fast on the wrong side of the law
So watch me take two to your jaw

Don't enter my hood, homeboy
Not a Robocop, a robogansta, ready to destroy
I take chances 'cause life to be ain't no good
Growin' up in the hood

Life ain't nothin' but bitches and money
Where I'm at, if you're soft, you're lost
Nothin' but bitches and money

1987, I'm back on the scene, out of jail, I'm legit
And I'm fuckin' up shit
I'm ready to peal a sucker's cap
And I heard that my hood was makin' snaps

As I precede to make my riches
Just like the neighborhood kingpin, pimp, and all these bitches
Task force tryin' to roll deep
But, I'm playin' these punk fools cheap

Niggas rolled by and try to blast, it didn't work
I seen the bullets flying and fool, I hit the dirt
Bullets fly through the window
Hits my brother, down goes my mother

As I'm rolling, I'm hitting my switches
Looking for the punk ass, sons of bitches
I found them, before I kill 'em, I said you fucked up good
Gotta handle that, growin' up in the hood

Life ain't nuttin but bitches and money
'Cause in the city you live and let die
Nothin' but bitches and money, yeah

A brother's on the run, I've got a hand in my stash box
Wanted 'cause I'm serving them the potent fat rocks
And my face is like a household name
Everybody warns their kids about the dope game

But I'm still makin' my profit
And the one time just can't stop it
So, I keep hidin' my face
No time to waste, they got me on the chase

Now, the neighborhood's on my line
'Cause some punk ass fool had drop the dime
5, O at my door, at 8 o'clock
Rush to the toilet, so, I could flush the rock

Out the backdoor, freeze, I heard a shout
Am I sure, yo, I guess I got no clout
But it's murder one, I'm the victim, damn
That ain't good, growin' up in the hood

Where I'm at, if you're soft, you're lost
Compton is the city that I claim
City that I fucked, take no shit from it, sure
Compton is the city that I claim

Where I'm at, if you're soft, you're lost
Compton is the city that I claim
City that I fucked, take no shit from it, sure
Compton is the city that I claim
City that I fucked, take no shit from it, sure