For The Record

[Chorus]
I don’t know what you’ve been told
But sometime even California gets cold
And I don’t know where you come from
But it’s the reason kids in the bay go dumb
And I don’t know what you’ve been saying
I don’t really care cause my music keep playin’
But I just want to set the record straight

[Verse 1]
Before I start, you know I gotta give the drummer some (ha)
Cause that’s the heartbeat of the town where I come from
And you could
You could say what you will about the schools
But I promise you the bay never raise no fool
We cooler than the average
Sicker than the savages
Demand a gentle (“demanagin’ an”?) avalanche of insubstantial tragedies
They don’t even seem to make the news
Ain’t too worried ‘bout Crips
But we still got the Blues
And the truth is in the blood
Like the proof is in the pudding
And the Cosby Kids missed it
Cause they moved about (“up out”?) the hood
So, my role model is the one rollin’
With the knock in the trunk, smell me?
Cause he let me forget the melody and focus on the… (ahhh)
Bangin’ around them backstreets
Blowin’ up on them backwoods
Rippers up in the backseat
Figure that’s how they act good
And maybe get a little bit of dough to flip to bread and dip in water
I love the culture, but I hate the slaughter
I’m wonderin’ if one necessitates the other
I don’t think it do
But then I do be gettin’ juiced
Up off the newest gangster shit
You ain’t gangster wit it if you fakin’ it
And I’m awakened by the art that intersects the day-to-day
I don’t wanna shoot nobody just to have somet’in’ to say
And I don’t wanna say I’m shootin’
Just to say I’m—
Shoot I lost my train of thought
Fuck it
It’s confusing, it’s alluring, it’s a nuisance
You gotta be the teacher
And you gotta be the student
You gotta keep the tempo where you’re mentally a truant
You gotta find a place where all of you exist congruent
Such as life inside the city’s innards
These are bowel movements
[Chorus]
[Verse 2]
Look, I walk like
I just learned to talk right
In a dark night
Where kids gotta lock bikes
Them locks tight
We got our minds on the grind of possession
It’s clearer than the ring and Smith & Wesson
The bell tolls erupt
Like bridge tolls are up
Like my nigga’s hands are up
In the air cause he’s stuck
And it’s sucks
Me? I probably don’t really give a fuck
And that’s ruthless, or maybe that’s luck
My coping mechanism supreme
I mean, these streets mean
Like (“Eadie”?), I mean, I seen a lot of shit
And I’m a product of my environment
I gotta lot to provide, and wit it, brought a lot of spit
Yada, yada
Y’all (“gather that feel to what I’m saying”?) Good
Most of y’all is going through it every minute of the day
We talk funny, but we don’t really play
Until we’re killed, and you realize the brilliance of Mac Dre
Everything is relevant
Everything’s a symbol
I’m seeing small, started drinking water out a thimble
Cause soaking up the details will keep your mind nimble
And smile simple, complete with mighty fine dimples
And my limp full of that bay max swagger
A strange matter
(“The gathering”?) of that data
The hat of a pimp, and the hat of a coroner
Ride the high hat ‘til you’re in (“the end,”?) California
[Chorus]