Off to other cities and shit
No longer just an underground hit
Movin thangs... a local nigga made good
And made a name off of making tapes for niggaz in the hood
And now, let me tell a little story
About the places that i been to and the shit that i been through
Like fightin and shootouts and bangin and shit
All because a nigga made a hit, check it
Nineteen-ninety-one, it was double or nothin that a nigga would hit
Then we broke out with the fonky shit
About bitches and niggaz and gettin drunken off that bud
I was doing the shit they hadn't heard of
But foolish was i to think that it wasn't no other cities like this
And that they didn't like this
That compton was the home of a foot in yo ass
Where you got blast
And now that's just a thing of the past
Let me tell ya why firsthand, we did a show up in oak-land
And niggaz was kickin up sand, to them bangin ain't nothin new
And slangin ain't nothin new
And for every nigga we done shot
They done shot two
Straight through and on since the sixties before i was born
Families of young niggaz mourn
So i'm just letting you know
That if ya plan to take a trip to the bay
Keep your hand on the clip
Yeah, i'm telling why'all oakland...
Moving on to st. louis, where thecountry is fucked
With gold teeth int hey mouth, but they still know what's up
Where it's hot as a motherfucker
Hot enough to make ya cuss
That's why i kept my ass on the bus
But later on, whenit cooled off we came down
And met a couple of friends
Who put us up on the st. louis cap
The smith center, with big bob, little steve, tojo, biss and rich
And a couple of bitches
Then they took us to a man named gus in a store
He put me down with a herringbone and shoes galore
That's when i started thinking that this wasn't like home
But then they had to prove me wrong
'cause later that night after we did the show
We went back to the afterset, and wouldn't ya know
Yeah, bloods and crips start scrappin and shootin -- in missouri?
Damn, how could this happen?
Now st. louis...
Yeah why'all, st. louis...
I don't think they know, they too crazy for their own good
They need to stop watchin that "colors" and "boyz in the hood"
Too busy claimin sixties, tryin to be raw
And never ever seen the shaw
But now, back to the story that i'm tellin
We packed up the tour bus one more time and started bailin
When we arrived i saw red and blue sweatsuits
When i'm thinkin bout horse dookey and cowboy boots
I guess texas ain't no different from the rest
And san antonio, was just waitin to put us to the test
And before it was over the shit got deep
A nigga got shot in the face, and was dead in the street
Then they came in the club thinkin of scrappin
Little did they know that we was packin
Yeah, we was puttin em down and squaring the rest, shit
I even had to wear the bulletproof vest
Now san antonio...
Yeah, san antonio...
After a month on the road
We came home and i can safely say
That l.a. is a much better place to stay
How could a bunch of niggaz in a town like this
Have such a big influence on niggaz so far away?
But still my story ain't over 'cause i got one more to tell
And the people of colorado, they know it well
It was all in the news and if you don't remember
I had this show i did in denver
With a punk ass promoter in a bunk ass skating rink
Bitches was loving it, but niggaz was shovin and shit
To the front of the stage to throw their gang signs
But i'm getting paid so i didn't pay it no mind
Then i poured out my brew onto their face and chest
Then they start throwin soda, and fuckin up my guests
When it was over two niggaz needed stitches
Got cracked in they jaw for being punk ass bitches
Yeah why'all, denver...
And ya know that oakland...
Yeah why'all st. louis...
Uh-huh, san antonio...
Yeah, and denver...
I thought ya knew...
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
"Jus Lyke Compton" as written by David Blake Robert Bacon
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
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