Uh, this is, uh, my name, excuse me, my name is Bob And I’m a reporter from one of the newest hip-hop magazines And I just wanted to ask you, Dresta, uh, uh Could you just give me your comments on How do you feel about the new NWA situation? NWA? Well, personally, homie, you know Bein' from, bein' from Compton and bein' a real rider? I would’ve preferred to see Eiht or Quik or somebody You know what I mean? They kept it real So how the fuck can they say N.W.A. without E Ice Cube, Ren, Tomica and Dre, your killing me Ain’t none of y'all motherfuckers asked us shit Gettin' rich yellin', Compton!, ain’t passed us shit When the last time you hung on the block? Nigga, admit it When Eazy was living none of you bitch niggas was with it Now he dead and he gone and you niggas is dead wrong But Dresta won't let the public get led wrong Remember Snoop Dogg told E to suck dick Now you giving this nigga his money you punk bitch What the fuck? My nigga probably turnin' over drastic If you ain’t already dug him up and sold the gold casket You niggas plastic, it’s a motherfuckin' pity Done had twenty artists, not one from the city For busters that get mad, here's my 2000 motto Talkin' junk, you’ll get your number punched like the lotto Full throttle, from the (city of Compton) Fuck N.W. a And I say fuck N.W. a And you say fuck N.W. a And we say fuck N.W. a You see I once was a thug from around the way But now I lounge and I blow a quarter pound a day The most smoked out and definitely loc’d out First rapper flapping his gums is getting chocked out On a mission to destroy the whole existence of marks From the start you cowards knew Compton had heart Up west and back east and down south, the gangsta's back And this is my motherfucking house So you niggas best to run and retreat Cuz for this new millennium, I'm here to gun and delete I hear niggas is running around saying you got the crown But bitch we never lost it, so backup off it That's why you rich niggas come and get jacked You're bitch niggas so us thugs gotta run in your scratch Catch you running in packs, just put the guns in your backs and tell ya Take off the Rolies and pass me the chain stolies Fo'sho-li We're still real in the (city of Compton) It’s no good man Word on the streets is niggas ain’t feelin' that shit You know what I’m sayin'? Hey! This BG D-Dog from West Side Nuttyz It’s like this. Tomica, fuck you! Yo, my Brooklyn niggas ain’t feelin' that reunion shit Well, there you have it Looks like on the streets it’s a, a vote ‘no’ on that new NWA You know I want the whole world to know how many of my homies they've slain From Eazy-E to 2Pac, and Baby Lane Little Jerry, now I gotta carry the whole thing It's a cold game, no things change I maintain I learned to be a G way back in '83 Been down ever since, real niggas represent Compton gave you all life when y'all had nothing to do And told you Fuck Tha Police when they was fucking with you I was sprung since I was young, I hit the sticky once Then ran to the candy store to get a ticket punched From coast to coast, none of you rappers pose threat And you bitches best to treat us with the utmost respect It's the C.P.T. for the Y2D Right back nigga easily, it's 1, 2, 3 They locked my brother down but I ain't never gonna forget him Cuz I love B.G. knocc Out and every nigga down with him Still down' with him, in the (city of Compton) Compton motherfucker Eazy-E R-I-P