I'm in the gangsta stroll, so you better run hide

Fools on slide, so keep your kids inside

Explicit words in this rhyme I wrote

Ain't no jack move fool so please don't

Demonstrate your style is weak you can't compete

And just like a girl, get freaked

It's the big ninety-one and Eiht's coming

Compton criminal fool so start running

And please stop biting my stuff

As the rhyme gets rough you done had enough

Of the Eiht, the gangsta mack, the pimp hustla

And pistol whip a weak busta

Suckers run up and get slapped

Damn, I thought you was smarter then that

Then to dis the brother who is Compton stepping

Microphone is kept as the murder weapon

I'm straight Checkn 'Em

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No shorts are taken, I give it to you long and slow

Hard fools, drop your guard

No your not prepared, your scared, no time to sleep

Cant bargain with your rap, cause its cheap

And if I have to show, like Rambro

And snap a neck with some Compton effect

And get buck wild sucker

And serve em all like cluckers

You just cant hang with your weak style

You slip right off a the pile

To me your just another pretender

So wave the white flag, boy surrender

And if you a female species

Tryin' to gank then girl you'll get these. Famous vapors, walk in

Papers, see you later

You little crooked alligator

You gets no juice

And if you scheme on my team then I'll cut you loose

You can't handle the format

Punk, I'll use you as a doormat

I'm straight checkn em

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I puts my foot down, so all the suckers get clowned

As the MC Eiht steps from the underground

A villain from the city under siege

Where the brothers jack, girlies skeeze

I'm breaking them off proper

And taking no B.S. from a copper

Fools on my tip keep sweating me

And trying to gank my Compton melody

You can't withstand the powerful blow

From a brother with a def wish

Others I smother and change their description

Wait a minute did I mention

That I flow punk fools with one swing

Bow down to the Compton king-

Pin, the record spins and that spells the end

For you my friend

I'm straight Checkn em

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Lets get our scraps on boy

And the Eiht'll destroy

And play you just like a toy

Fools try and they can't hang cause they raps just simp

I thought so wimp

I'm blasting, peeling caps, making snaps

For the violence in my raps

Gotta pack tools cause fools don't wanna back on my tip

Geah, but that's cool

I give em a count backwards ten to one

Then they tale is done

I give up no slack

Because a sucker tried to punk my style and call it wack

Now I'm back to attack

And give em hype, just like they finding for crack

So come on, come on, cause Eiht and Mike'll keep deckn' em

Geah fool, straight checkn em

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Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): AARON B. TYLER, ANDRE P. MANUEL, TERRY KEITH ALLEN