What the Deal lyrics

[Intro]
Uh-huh, yeah
You know what it is
Uh-uh
It's that Compton sh*t, n*gga
Get back, uh
I tell you, I swear it's-

[Chorus]
If I gotta ride (O-O-O-Okay, uh)
Then he's gonna die (O-O-O-Okay, duck, n*ggas)

[Interlude]
Uh (Get back)
Let me talk to 'em
Listen

[Verse]
I hope n*ggas ain't really tryin' to break my bones
'Cause if you are, make sure you know a nickname you want for that tombstone
Play hard as a rock, bullets can break stones
Break bad boys down like Jenny did Sean Combs
I'm hot as an oven, you just a pressin' comb
I'm not impressed homes, you should've stayed home
And prayed that rooftop blocked you from gettin' sh*tted on
I gives a f*ck if A&R's don't pick up the phone, huh
I swear there's no one like me
But if it is, then I got a long lost twin, or they made me a clone
I don't care about friends, I was made to be on my own
I came in this world by myself, and I'm leavin' alone
Hopefully with a crib that I can call my own
With a backyard the size of the f*ckin' Georgia Dome, pop
You pop sh*t, then I might pop your dome
Give your homies a reason to make a memory song, huh
n*ggas swear that they love when the beef is on
Knowin' that plummet time the only time he'll roam
You better hold your breath, I give you walkin' death
And recommend the gun bein' your chaperone
I know young n*ggas that look up to Al Capone
And they look seventeen, but I swear that their mind is grown, sh*t
I'm so grown and the reason why I write this way
Pac and Big be ghostwritin' my songs, huh
You can play the boss
But if you get shot from bein' on top
Then, homie, that's your loss, sh*t
I'm nice wit' it
I'll pop your man then leave some money on him so it can pay for his funeral costs, get it?
The n*ggas tryin' to get money like Fort Knox
Either from the rap sh*t or back down to the cut rock
And you can play a baller but deep inside you know you just an actor
Yeah, somethin' like Rick Fox, huh
You ain't a thug, homie, you just a fox
In the midst of werewolves somewhere in the Boondocks
And I'm really from the streets
So if I ask for beef, homeboy, don't bring me no pork chop
I turn your skin to pork, homie, with one chop
With a rusty switchblade that's dirty like bum socks, ha
They say the flow is crack
So wherever I rap, best believe you can call it a dope spot, b*tch, b*tch, I swear
[Chorus]
I'm gon' ride (Yeah, y'all know what it is)
And he's gotta die (Uh, b*tch)

[Outro]
It's that Compton sh*t, n*ggas (Get back)
Uh, oh K.Dot (Huh, uh huh)
Oh, oh, oh, oh K.Dot
Money by any means, n*gga