[Intro]
(Man, Quik what they talkin 'bout?)
Man, they talkin 'bout R&B music and gangsta rap is dead
(WHAT~?! Damn...)
Ay, we need to go bury both of them muh'f**ers in the pet semetary
(Take 'em to Compton and Watts, then)
[DJ Quik]
I hit the liquor depot, on Crenshaw
where all the working cla** Gs' go
Around the corner from Greg house, on the next block
Knockin somethin down cause South Central got the best cot
And the flyest b**hes live in ran-down spots
That's why them n***az be Piruin and Crippin
Tryin to protect that ghetto p**y they hittin
And you know what you gon' get when you buy you a Quik beat
And you know what's gon' happen when yo' b**hes and Quik meet
And I know that she gon' kiss and tell
She can't keep it quiet, can't help it when the dick is swell
Have to admit it, it was good, she just gotta laugh
Like a parent, I put a whoopin on her bottom half
I'm a playa from the Himalayas
n***az don't agree, then them n***az haters
I'm just tryin to be the R&B savior with the instrumentals
Or go down like JFK in the Continental
The most underrated, so motherf**in hate it
Anything I do for music's never celebrated
Y'all k**in the game like pesticide
...But DJ Quik is unpasteurized
My music is flawless, my lyrics is lawless
Your hood wouldn't be eating, I'm the reason for all this
Y'all tryin to say I got my jaw broke in Compton
What kind of fake gangsta movies y'all be watchin?
That's some cowboy sh**, this some now boy sh**
With them rounds at your car, that's as loud as it's gon' get
Handle my lightweight, get 'em embalmed in the crates
So don't fu*k with the great, you're much safer on skates
...A thin ice with lead plates
I'm bout to reboot, g'on and recruit
Come thru and shoot, make 'em scatter like SHOO~!
So all that don't like me, you can s** a dick or somethin
Turn over on your stomach. take a dil*o 'til you vomit
I know you n***az crampin, I know the real you
You keep f**in with me, and I'm gon' k** you
[DJ Quik]
Now what they wanna go cancel Arsenio Hall for?
Now he got no place to kick it, that's uncalled for
I'm a bad motherf**er cause my glock says so
But my wallet says Gucci, I'm a fly k**a yo
Jewels on yo' a**, pullin tools on yo' a**
Recite a scripture 'fore I put these B-B-BURRS in yo' a**
I'ma just let it, collect it with a bag
Put that in perspective, it's about a half O-Z of the OG
Gettin low key, rollin' more trees
in a hatchback chillin like it's '79
My lyrics so wicked, n***a, go and rewind
So, one more time, I'm from the world's most dangerous city
Back on the scene with no cracks on my screen (yep)
I'm like an addict gettin back on that thing
If R&B is dead - n***a, rest in peace
But I'm still gon' write the sh** that makes the stress release
Preach