[Intro]
Look brotha
There's a new group
There's a new thang
Get down to the nitty gritty (What's goin' on, yeah) (Y'all niggas is bitches too)
(Ah yeah) (y'all niggas is...)
(What's goin on?) (Y'all niggas is bitches too) (Yeaaaaah!)
Can I kill 'em now? (Oh yeah)
Yeah! (Y'all niggas is)
(What's goin' on?)
(Yeaaaaah!)
[Verse 1]
Tweedy Bird got a bone to pick
Some ass to kick, so give me the K, so I can bust the dope shit
You say you want a scoop on the infamous group
You got it troupe, so let me take you back to the fuckin' root
Back in 1987, Eazy selling dope outta mom's crib
Shootin' dice at the park like all the niggas did
Takin' the 8 ball to the head like it's a bitch, had a idea to play a crew and deal with the fuckin' Jew
40Gs in the hands of a white man, trusted in him before you think about your own clan
So come to me as I show you a high level
Go grab a shovel, 'cause a nigga made a deal with the devil
You used to be a real McCoy
Until you came up and turned your back on your homeboys
Instead of gettin' your homies from the park
You went out your way to hire a bunch of marks
And then you say you can put your real homies
In your video flicks, but save that shit
'Cause an excuse is only good for the person who makes it
You sold out and now you straight fakin' it
But that’s okay 'cause the homies understand
You’re just another nigga owned by the white man
So take DJ Speed and that white girl Sally jump in that Astro Van and take your ass back to the valley
'Cause what you preach is dead
So put that shit in your own kids head
And of course you ain’t no role model
So fuck you N.W.A and your ol' 8 bottle
And who the hell told you that you was a violent hero?
Take notes from me
Bitch, you a zero!
As for you women, ya made your choice
You choose Tairrie B so now I’m fuckin' your girl Joyce!
Yeah, I fucked her, and I had fun
And no it wasn’t easier said than done
So take it personal 'cause your respect is short
You better keep clockin' dollars 'cause you gotta pay child support
It ain’t my fault that hoes are gettin you for ya riches
But you shouldn't have babies by twenty different bitches
I ain’t jealous but bitch you gotta come home
But until then, let it be known what really goin' on?
[Chorus]
(What's goin' on?) (Y'all niggas and bitches too!)
They Figure I'm a trigga happy nigga so they step back (What's goin' on?)
[Verse 2]
Verse two goes out to the gangstas of America
MC Ren is a fictional character
Ain’t that a bitch, punk, you ain’t a ruthless villain
Yo' ass a lie, you ain’t never did a killin'
Always talkin' kill this and kill that on the microphone
But couldn’t bust a grape with razorblade shoes on
Bitch tell the world the truth for real
You ain’t gon' kill nothin', or let nothin' be killed!
'Cause you a prankster
You and Eazy-E's the Milli Vanilli of gangsters
Got some records, fine cars and makin' a grip
But you're missin' an Oscar for perpetratin' a Crip
You resemble a buster when it's time to squab
Who'd you do a drive by on, a mothafuckin' mirage?
So you thought I would pay you no mind
But a nigga like the Tweedy Bird ain't blind to your kind
The only reason punk you come to Compton is to get to school
Pass out T-shirts to promote your fuckin' group
Nigga this is Tweedy B, you used to look up to me
But you got ghost when you dropped the LP
You went out like Eazy and your sold your soul
So fuck you and fairytale rapper CPO
That goes for Lil Nation, Chip and Pork Chop
Fuck around with the UWC and get mopped
'Cause my homies got my back
AKA Double-D, KeyLow G and Battlecat
My brothers [?], so there'll be days like this
But the real niggas from Compton's on the KP list
KP, DC, BooBoo, Singular, June Dawg and Hyme
And all the rest I don’t mention you know the time
We’ll diss you but we really wanna peel your dome
I’m Compton strong, so now what's really goin' on? (Yeaaaaah)
[Chorus]
(What's goin' on?) (He went out like a bitch!)
(Oh yeah) (If you don't like it, I suggest you break why)
(What's goin' on?) (Yeah) (He - he went out like a bitch!)
(What's goin' on?) (If you don't like it, I suggest you break why - why) (Oh yeah)
[Verse 3]
I remember the days of old
When Yella and Dre was just like Prince wearin' pantyhose
Yo', fuck fiction, I’m telling the facts brothers
Yella and Dre is two gay mothafuckas
And Lonzo fucked 'em good when they was in the Wreckin' Cru so they ate two cans of man and became niggas with attitudes
Dre, beattin up on women like Dee
But I dare yo' punk ass to run up on me
'Cause I show you what's up
I'll treat you like a salad and toss you the fuck up
And Yella you need to go
'Cause you remind me of that bubblegum gangster Bazooka Joe
This goes out to Eazy and your whole damn crew, you don’t give a fuck about the homies
So we don’t give a fuck about you
You think black khakis and hats will make you brave
But you fuck with my posse and you'll end up in your grave
'Cause we give all we got to give
And don’t forget punks, we know where your mamas live
'Cause when we roll, we roll hard
Straight Outta Compton? no, your mothafuckin' backyard
So what's up with you, D-O to the C?
I heard you got fucked up when you ran into a tree
So now you need your ass wiped
Go call the doctor, 'cause you and Michel'le sound a like
And Eazy you's takin' slack when Ice Cube left yo' ass?
And Dre blast and you think that shits gonna pass?
As I expose the bitches and hoes, long as N.W.A. stand for "Niggas Weak Anyway"
Another scoop on the punk ass group
You'll learn that Tairrie B's a undercover prostitute
How many white hoes have you known to wear a Compton hat?
Besides Eazy, Tairrie B, bitch, you ain't black
To Michel'le with that fucked up voice
“Something's in my throat” and it's a dick!
To ATL, you got a lot of growin' up to do
We ain't Da Lench Mob, but we'll be stepping up to you
Shouts out to Tim Dog, I like how you punked they crew
But you dissed my city, so fuck you
Make a note of this, next time, don’t even speak
'Cause you’re just like a calendar, you're weak
South Bronx's got a problem, it's a female dog
So put yo; bitch on a leash if she's got beef
And let me stress a little somethin
You South Bronx mothafuckas can't touch Compton
And to you D-Nice
Fuck around and I'll be doin' 25 to life, I'll fuck you up so bad, you'll be yellin' out peace and when you get back home they’ll be callin' you Denise
'Cause a punk like you ain't able
To stand up to me, so now there's crumbs on the table
I got the flavor 'cause my city's gon' stay strong
Time expires so now what's really goin' on?
[Chorus]
(Onn, what's goin' on?) (So - so now, so - so now big man, but he really ain't shit! Yo how'd he go out? He went out like a bitch!) (However you need me)
(What's goin' on?) (So - so now, so - so now big man, but he really ain't shit! Yo how'd he go out? He went out like a bitch!)
(What's goin' on?)
