Cowards In Compton lyrics

[Intro: Luke]
Uh, yo, f*ck-ass n*ggas
Let me tell y'all one thing
Right now I just don't give a f*ck
I'ma let n*ggas just rip y'all motherf*ckin' throat out
Y'all gay-ass motherf*ckers
Snoop ass, ho-ass, dog-ass n*gga
Dre, you ain't nothin' but my b*tch, I'ma make you my b*tch
You look like you could suck a n*gga di*k, ho-ass motherf*cker

[Verse 1: JT Money]
I know n*ggas ain't tryin' to diss comin' with that wack sh*t
Keep tryin' to front, get your motherf*ckin' back split
And your ass kicked, this sh*t is drastic
Run up on my n*gga, get your punk-ass blasted
Real n*ggas don't talk that gay sh*t
Talkin' 'bout lettin' another n*gga suck your di*k
Only punks talk like that
I won't even bust ya, I'll slap you with my gat
Frontin' like a gangsta, but you's a faggot
See, you can act it, but you can't back it
n*gga like me won't play with ya
I'ma buck-buck-buck when I get ya
f*ck it, I'm goin' all out
Step on Death Row and spray up ya house, n*gga
Dumb motherf*cker tryin' to talk foul
f*ck around, get a missile launched in your ass
And for your homies talkin' fly sh*t
If we was locked up together, I'd have made 'em my b*tch
'Cause I know y'all pranksters
Y'all n*ggas still fakin' like gangsters, f*ck y'all
[Chorus]
Back for the payback (Death Row)
Back for the payback (Death Row)
Back for the payback
Your head with oil, lots of oil
Back for the payback (Death Row)
Back for the payback (Death Row)
Back for the payback
Your head with oil, lots of oil

[Verse 2: Clayvosie]
It's about time for me to tear the roof off the motherf*cker
I grab the gat to make you f*ck n*ggas run for cover
You can fool a groupie, but you can't fool a gangsta
1985, you used to be a f*ckin' prankster
Down with Lonzo and the World Wreckin' Cru
Turnin' off the lights and dressin' like b*tches too
Every n*gga on Death Row must be a joke
I'll pull the lever to the chair and watch you n*ggas smoke
Real n*ggas don't follow punks down here
I guess your n*gga Snoopy Dogg must be a queer
So who the f*ck you gonna blast here in Miami?
f*ck with me and I'll kill your whole family
And I do mean ho, you think I'm playin', son?
I got my Glock to your head, now where you gonna run?
Before you diss my n*gga Luke, you better think twice
I'll pull the trigger, n*gga, and turn off your lights
[Interlude]
Yeah, f*ck-ass n*gga, you just don't know
A n*gga know about your motherf*ckin' ass
With them "Turn Off the Lights" days
n*gga, when you was sittin' on them album covers
With the motherf*ckin' lip gloss
And them sequins, outfits on
n*gga, I know what a n*gga want you to do right now
n*gga, you know what I want you to do for me right now?
I want you to just take off that g-string, baby
'Cause you know you look real crazy
And you gon' be my ho, maybe
I just don't like this n*gga, yo
Mike Fresh, let's just take these f*ck n*ggas' beat
Yeah, this is how we do, we take f*ck n*ggas' beat
Yo, better yet, f*ck that sh*t, my n*gga, f*ck that sh*t
Yo, my n*gga, bring the real sh*t in
Get that ol' coochie sh*t outta here

[Verse 3: JT Money]
Verse two, motherf*cker, still hit you with the ill sh*t
f*ck with my n*gga and your ass'll get killed quick
pus*y n*gga, you ain't sh*t
Did a whole album of other n*ggas pullin' your di*k
I'll wreck your whole staff
Bust shots at they ass, you n*ggas can't last
So don't try to flip the script, money grip
Got a TEC on my hip, plus I'm in the mood to trip
And I'll take your four-four
Take a walk down Death Row, them n*ggas get petro'
'Cause that sh*t ain't nothin' but soft-town
Play bad, get knocked the f*ck off, clown
I'll be on the D.L. scopin'
Catch you slippin', leave your motherf*ckin' chest open
That n*gga changed gears like a ten-speed
Last album, that n*gga was against weed
Now he's Mr. Chronic Man
Get high, n*gga, try to play bionic man
Act like you wanna be tough
And we gon' see who'll really get f*cked, you f*ck
[Outro: Luke]
Yeah, f*ck-ass n*gga, lemme tell you somethin'
What you gon' be?
You gon' be a real n*gga or you gon' be a flaunt, n*gga?
You gon' be on weed, or you ain't gon' be on weed?
You gon' be a bruise next year
Aight, what you gon' be on this motherf*ckin' year?
Let me tell you somethin' 'bout a n*gga, right?
All real n*ggas, I mean, you lookin' at a real n*gga, n*gga
Now lemme tell you somethin'
Have you ever got head on stage, n*gga?
I'll get head from your motherf*ckin' ho on stage
You let the b*tch be in the audience, 'cause I'ma take that pus*y
You ol' pus*y-ass, c*ck-ass n*gga
Lemme tell you somethin'
Cowards in Compton get sprayed in Dade
Cowards in Compton get sprayed in Dade, pus*y
Cowards in Compton get sprayed in motherf*ckin' Dade
You ho-ass n*gga, you my b*tch, b*tch (Hell yeah)

[Interlude]
Luke Records would like to acknowledge
That all references made in the previous work towards homosexuals
Is not reflecting an anti-homosexual position on our part
Our problem is with homosexuals by the name of Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg