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Ricky (By K3lmyDR) (Www.FlowHoT.NeT)

Game
Popularity ยท Low
๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ง English ยท Original

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Lyrics

"Shit, Rick! Come on, man!" "Ricky!" "Help me! Help me, somebody help me! Ricky! Ricky!" "Ricky!" Blood of a slave, heart of a giant Had to leave Aftermath, Dre said I was too defiant That was five years ago, look how fast it go Destroyin' Interscope, shot myself like Plaxico But fuck that, blaze one, with a match and show Hit the freeway and see how fast the Aston go Roll the window down, clip off the ashes so You can see all my diamonds and how much cash I blow How many bitches I fuck, how many cars I drive How many goons I got, count 'em and they all outside Niggas try to shut me up like Malcolm But standin' in the window, K smokin' was the outcome Sometimes I get a little stressed and pop a Valium Hit Hollywood late night and knock down a stallion Some niggas think twice 'bout my medallion All you hear Cuba Gooding yellin' ("Ricky!") My nostalgia's a hundred percent Compton, zero percent snitch Park a Bentley and a Phantom on blocks where I used to pitch Made the Cincinnati fitted more famous than Griffey did And just to think, several years ago they tried to split his wig Two to the chest, struck his heart, one hit his rib Then I blacked out like a movie, all I could hear "Pull up on him, let's get him, let's get him, get him, man, get him Cut him off, cut him off, pull right here, cut him off, go man, go" Feelin' all fucked up, woke up to a doctor All I could think about was if the cops took my weed and my choppers They want me to sing, like Sinatra I told the detective, get this cleared like Belvedere Vodka Them five shots done created a monster Hell's Kitchen comin' straight outta Compton I seen Boyz N the Hood, Morris Chestnut was a actor 2Pac was the real life, ("Ricky!") Then they shot down the nigga that shot him Swear to God, if I'm lyin' Then Compton is New York and I'm Rakim I'm from where niggas get murdered over stock rims And punched in the jaw, just for a cocked brim Nobody mama let the cops in, we ain't got no options Wanted to be a boxer, but I was boxed in Then my grandmother house went up for auction And that's what killed her, I'm goin' back to buy the block then Too many niggas locked in, dig up Cochran And defend all my niggas with they face under stockings Rather face God than twenty-five with no options If Compton ain't the murder capital, we in the top ten Drive by with our face painted like a clown With a trey pound, forty shells bouncin' off the ground This how my livin' room sound when my brother got shot down "Ricky! No! No! Ricky! Ricky! No! No! Ricky! No! No! No!