Alba s touto skladbou:
Straight Outta Compton,
Verse 1:
I don't drink brass monkey, like to be funky
Nickname Eazy-E your 8 ball junkie
Bass drum kickin', to show my shit
Rap a hole in my dick, boy I don't quit
Crowd rocking motherfucker from around the way
I got a six shooter yo mean hombre
Rolling through the hood to find the boys kick dust and cuss crank up some noise
Police on my drawers, I have to pause
40 ounce in my lap and it's freezing my balls
Hook a right turn and let the boys go past
Then I say to myself, They can kiss my ass
Hip to get drunk got the 8 in my lips
Put in the old tape Marvin Gaye's greatest hits
Turn the shit up had the bass cold whomping
Cruising through the east side south of Compton
See a big ass and I say word
I took a look at the face, and the bitch was to the curb
Hoes on my tip for the title I'm holding
Eazy-E's fucked up and got the 8 ball rolling
Verse 2:
Riding on Slauson down towards Crenshaw
Turned down south, to dish the law
Stopped at a light and had a fit,
Cos a mexican almost wrecked my shit.
Flipped his ass off, put it to the floor,
Bottle was empty so I went to the store.
Nigga on till cos I was drunk,
See ya sissy as punk had to go in my trunk.
Reached inside cos it's like that,
Came back out with a silver Gat.
Fired at the punk and it was all because
I had to show the nigga what time it was.
Verse 3:
Put up the jam and, like a mirage,
A sissy like that got out of Dodge.
Sucker on me, cos the title I'm holdin'
Eazy-E's fucked up and got the 8 ball rollin'
Old E's 800 cos that's my plan.
Take it in a bottle, 40, quart, or can.
Drink it like a madman, yes I do,
Fuck the police, and a 5-0 too.
Stepped at a party I was drunk as hell,
Three bitches already said "Eric yo breath smells"
40-ounce in hand, that's what I got,
"Yo man, you see Eazy hurlin' in the parkin' lot?"
Stepped on yo foot, cold dissed yo ho,
Asked her to dance and she said "Hell, no"
Called her a bitch, cos that's the rule,
Boys in the hood tryin to keep me cool.
Tell me, homeboy, you wanna kick my butt?
I walked in your face and we get em up.
I start drivin the dog, and watch you fold,
Just dumb, full of cum, got num dot co.
"Make you look sick, ya snotty-nose prick,
Now your fly bitch is all over his dick."
Punk got dropped, cos the title I'm holdin'
Eazy-E's fucked up and got the 8-ball rollin'.
Verse 4:
Pass the broom, motherfucker, while I tear shit up,
And y'all listen up close to roll-call.
Eazy-E's in the place, I got money and juice,
Rendezvous with me and we make the deuce.
Dre makes the beat so god-damn funky,
Do the 0-8, fuck the brass monkey.
Ice Cube writes the rhymes that I say,
Hail to the niggas from CIA.
Crazy D is down and in effect,
We make hardcore jams, so fuck respect.
Make a toast, pumpy pump to the title I'm holdin'
Eazy-E's fucked up and got the 8-ball rollin.
Believe in Love
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Downtown
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Word Of Mouth
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Is This The Way To Amarillo
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Breaking The Law
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Lucky
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