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Ricky
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1
"Shit! Rick!
2
C'mon man!"
3
"Ricky!"
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"Help me! Help me! Somebody, help me!"
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"Ricky, Ricky!"
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"Ricky!"
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Blood of a slave, heart of a giant
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Had to leave Aftermath, Dre said I was too defiant
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That was five years ago, look how fast it go
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Destroyin' Interscope, shot myself like Plaxico
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But fuck that, blaze one, where the matches yo?
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Hit the freeway and see how fast the Aston go
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Roll the window down, clip off the ashes so
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You can see all my diamonds and how much cash I blow
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How many bitches I fuck, how many cars I drive
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How many goons I got, count 'em and they all outside
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Niggas try to shut me up like Malcom
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But standin' in the window caine smoking was the outcome
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Sometimes I get a little stressed and pop a Valium
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Hit Hollywood late night and knock down a stallion
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So niggas think twice about my medallion or
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You'll hear Cuba Gooding yelling "Ricky!"
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My nostalgia is one hundred percent Compton and zero percent snitch
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Park a Bentley and the Phantom on blocks while I use the pitch
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Made the Cincinnati fitted more famous than Griffey did
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And just to think, several years ago they tried to split his wig
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Two to the chest, struck his heart, one hit his rib
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Then I blacked out, like a movie, all I could hear
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Feelin' all fucked up, woke up to a doctor
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All I could think about, was that the cops took my weed and my choppers
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They want me to sing, like Sinatra, I told the detective
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Get this clear like Belvedere vodka
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Them five shots, they created a monster
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Hell's Kitchen comin' straight out of Compton
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I seen Boyz in the Hood, Morris Chestnut was a actor
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2Pac was the real life "Ricky!"
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Then they shot down the nigga that shot him, I swear to God
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If I'm lying then Compton is New York and I'm Rakim
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I'm from where niggas get murdered over stock rims
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And punched in the jaw just for a cocked brim
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Nobody mama let the cops in, we ain't got no options
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Wanted to be a boxer, but I was boxed in
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Then my grandmother house went up for auction
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And that's what killed 'em, I'm goin' back to buy the block then
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Too many niggas locked in, dig up Cochran and defend all my niggas
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With they faith under stockings, rather face
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God then twenty-five with no options
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If Compton ain't the murder capital, we in the top ten
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Drive by with our face painted, like a clown
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With a tre-pound, forty shells bouncin' off the ground
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This how my living room sound, when my brother got shot down
Kendrick Lamar, Rick Ross - Game Of Love...
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