| Geah! | 
| Geah!
 | 
| Fresh out the hood, We made it
 | 
| This gangsta shit, We paid it
 | 
| G-g-g-g-geah, Cmon
 | 
| I’mma keep yellin compton for life
 | 
| Although the ghetto bring a motherfucker stress to strife
 | 
| At night, hear the gunshots, somebody dyin
 | 
| Murder on the front line, mama be cryin
 | 
| It’s her firstborn, all the lines been torn
 | 
| How long will mama only son should mourn?
 | 
| To the streets is my motherfuckin lord to sworn
 | 
| Out the do' when I hear my fuckin o.g.'s horn
 | 
| To the homie 6 feet, a little liquor we pourin
 | 
| Down the ave statin where the girls be whorin
 | 
| One times is hot on the trail
 | 
| Destined to stack us in the county jail
 | 
| Police ain’t a friend to me, pop at the enemy
 | 
| Fire out the hole life smoke at the chimney
 | 
| There’s so many young souls lost
 | 
| The hood life you gon pay at a high cost
 | 
| Fresh out the hood, We made it
 | 
| These motherfuckin dues, Homeboy we paid it
 | 
| This gangsta shit, We made it
 | 
| These motherfuckin dues, Homeboy we paid it
 | 
| Fresh out the hood, we made it
 | 
| These motherfuckin dues, Homeboy we paid it
 | 
| Homeboy, We made it, This motherfuckin gangsta
 | 
| I remember when it all started, Runnin around actin retarded
 | 
| Jumpin out on anybody livin life cold hearted
 | 
| I’ll hold him while you sock 'em up
 | 
| Go in his pockets cause you know we don’t give a fuck
 | 
| Nigga what? | 
| This Compton, breaded and branded, sets landed
 | 
| But fools be softies and I can’t understand it
 | 
| We went from small change to big change
 | 
| Flipped up the game and remain the same
 | 
| Blow weed, get dope, and chase all the hoes
 | 
| Fresh white tee, slammin 6 tre dough
 | 
| And stay ready to kick up dust
 | 
| Cause it’s a rumor in the city they gon spit at us
 | 
| So they had to be ready for niggas to rock steady
 | 
| Can’t get caught without it, So don’t sweat me
 | 
| But these fools is fake and gold plated
 | 
| Livin outdated while I’m laughin, Screamin out we made it
 | 
| I’m out the ragtop 6 tre, dub’s in the sky
 | 
| Blunt gettin me high, it’s do or die
 | 
| Reminiscing on how we used to laugh and joke
 | 
| Goin half on the o.e. | 
| lookin for smoke
 | 
| I was the getaway driver, you rolled shotgun
 | 
| Motherfuckers surrounded the car, you shot one
 | 
| In broad day light, whenever we took flight
 | 
| I’mma revenge the death boy with all my might
 | 
| Hand me a light so I can spark up the blunt
 | 
| Smoke until my finger tips then go on a hunt
 | 
| Best not stunt, I’mma stay low key
 | 
| Creep up when you comin out slowly
 | 
| Wit the rag round my face, you don’t know me
 | 
| I’m a neighborhood menace to my enemy
 | 
| Geah, it’s just the way we are
 | 
| If you wit your homies, still shoot up the car |