What money got to do with it?
When I don't know the full definition of a rap image
I'm trapped inside the ghetto and I ain't proud to admit it
Institutional lies, I keep running back for a visit
Hold up
Get it back
I said I'm trapped inside the ghetto and I ain't proud to admit it
Institutional lies, I could still kill me a d***
So what?
If I was the president
I'd pay my mama's rent
Free my old B's and M's
Would it prove my Chevy doors
Lay in the White House and get high
I'd pay my mama's rent
Who ever thought
Massa, take the chains off me
Life to me like a box of chocolate
Quip, pro, quote
Something for something, that's the obvious
Oh s***, flow so sick
Don't you swallow it, biting my style
Your salmonella poison, possibly
Positive, I can just
Alleviate the rap industry
Politics, milk the game up
Never lactose, intolerant
The last remain done
A real s***, you know the obvious
Me, scholarship, no streets
Put me through colleges
Be all you can be
True, but the problem is
A dream, only a dream
If work, don't follow it
Remind me of the homies
They used to know me
Now follow this
I tell you my hypothesis
I'm probably just way too loyal
Can't desert what's doing for you
My n***as think I'm a god
Truthfully, all of them spoil you
Usually, you never change
Charged
But something came over you
Once I took you to the f***ing P.E.T. awards
You're looking at heartases like they're harborses
So many rollies around you
And you want all of them
Somebody told me you thinking about snatching jury
I should've listened what my grandmama said to me
S***, don't change it till you
Get up and wash your a**
S***, don't change it till you
Get up and wash your a**
S***, don't change it till you
Get up and wash your a**
Oh now, slow down
Once upon a time in the city so divine
Called Westside Compton
There stood a little b****
He was five foot something
God bless the kid
Took his homies to the show
And this is what they said
Get my post to do what I'm looking at
Walking licks
The constant big money
Talk about the mention in foreign whips
The profit, chess, and passport
Pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure

It's a digital glass for gold bottles, gold models
Giving up the ass for Instagram flick
Suckin' niggas, this one more sucker
Waving with a fleshy wrist
My defense mechanism tell me to get him
Quickly because he got it
It's a recession, then why the f*** he ain't king of diamonds?
No more living, boy, meet my four-four
When I see him, put the bird, deal him on the floor
Now, Kendrick, know they your co-workers
But this gon' take a lot for this pistol, go cold turkey
Now I can watch this, watch on the TV and be okay
But see, I'm on the clock, watch that watch landing in L.A.
Remember, steal from the rich and giving it back to the poor
Well, that's me at these awards
I guess my grandmama was warning the boys, she said
Don't change it till you get up and wash your ass
Don't change it till you get up and wash your ass
Don't change it till you get up and wash your ass
Oh, now
Slow down
Once upon a time in a city so divine
Called Westside Compton
There stood a little n***a, he was five foot something
Dazed and confused
Talented, but still under the neighborhood rules
You can take your boy out the hood
But you can't take the hood off the homie
Took his show money, stashed it in the mosey-wosey
Hollywood's nervous
You goodnight, thank you much for your service
You goodnight, thank you much for your service