Howie Weinberg - f** Compton lyrics

[Verse 1: Tim Dog] Oh sh** motherf**ers step to the rear and cheer Cause Tim Dog is here Let's get down to the nitty gritty And talk about a bullsh** city Talking about n***as from Compton They're no comp and they truly ain't stomping Tim Dog, a black man's task I'm so bad I'll whip Superman's a** All you s**ers that rif on the West Coast I'll dis and spray your a** like a roach You think you're cool with your curls and your shades I'll roll thick and you'll be yelling out raid A hard brother that lives in New York Where s**ers are hard and we don't have to talk Shut your mouth 'fore we come out stomping Hey, yo Eazy f** Compton [Hook] f** Compton f** Compton (Yeah!) f** Compton (Oh Yeah!) f** 'em [Verse 2: Tim Dog] (Why you dissing Eazy?) Cause the boy ain't sh** Chew him with tobacco, and spit him in sh** I'll crush Ice Cube, I'm cool wit Ice T But NWA ain't sh** to me Dre beating on Dee from Pump it Up Step to the Dog and get f**ed up I'm simplistic, imperialistic, idealistic And I'm kicking the ballistics Having that gang war We want to know what you're fighting for Fighting over colors? All that gang sh**'s for dumb motherf**ers But you go on thinking you're hard Come to New York and we'll see who gets robbed Take your jheri curls, take your black hats Take your wack lyrics and your bullsh** tracks Now you're mad and you're thinking about stomping Well I'm from the South Bronx f** Compton [Hook] [Verse 3: Tim Dog] Tim Dog and I'm the best from the East And all this Compton sh** must cease So keep your eyes on the prize and Don't jeopardize my rhyme cause that's not wise You really think that you can rhyme Well come and get some of this loaded Tec-9 Bo bo bo shots are cold gunning And you'll really be a hundred miles and running You wanna play go ride in a sleigh I'm so large I f**ed Michel'le In the bathroom we was boning You shoulda heard how the b**h was moaning Do do do do dooo do do do do do do do Shut the f** up b**h, you can't sing You sound like a kid playing on a swing (f** you) I'm the man at hand to run the band That's in command You know who the f** I am Tim Dog, what's my motherf**ing name Tim Dog, that's my motherf**ing game So whether you think that I'm just a myth That riff, the lift, the gift, the if, the fifth The shift, the spliff, that's in control, to hold To fold, to bold and make an ache and take and fake Wooh! and I'm still too great f** Compton