You are now about to witness the strength of Street Monk.

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And these ain't really kids in the playground

All that sandbox shit'll get you shot, dang

Shoot first, then take ten paces

While they tryna guess the color of my shoe laces

Since birth, I was labeled as a bad seed

Had thirteen busted guns from the backseat

You know what kind of cloth I was cut from

You know pimps was gonna talk when I touched one

Shed money and murder just to keep it

You know how it is, it ain't a secret

Let's spread out and count it, count it, count it

How many days a night should I live?

Uh -huh

Self -confidence, self -confidence

Let's spread out and count it

East side, south bound

Second son of the motherfuckin' legend

See his brain to this

Young niggas raisin' hell

And wherever the cash is, where I dwell

I don't give a fuck, that's the problem

See the cops, E3, choose the dodger

Lay low from the pigs, fuck the swine

I need three and eight sets to sweep my fuckin' mind

See y 'all laugh, take a hit from my sushi stick

With my hockey mask on, no trick or treat

Don't say nothin', nigga, don't say shit

Cause you know how it is, and you know how it kick

I'm from the ruthless streets of Compton

Man, I pop for the city on this song, don't understand

Lil' Eazy and E3, believe we stoppin'

Hub City representin', boy, comin' straight outta Compton

Compton, Compton, Compton

Compton, Compton

Yes

Compton

Compton, Compton's in the house

Compton, Compton

See why you know where he's straight from

Probably the city your city got, they ain't from

I'm from the hub, the city that made them eight guns

For a slump, punk, make your whole state run

The same nigga these chicks can't get a day from

I just fuckin' count how many I can make come

Let's get young, got another track to deprecate on

Run with the real Rick Ross, not the fake one

You CB4, I'm CBT

Y 'all run the streets in the heat like BTV

For the GT, it was me, DB

Get ready for the pound in the middle like DPG

On the mic of Kobe, KD, and CB3

Suckin' MC's, see me like Stevie C

Like a nigga sittin' too close to the TNC

Y 'all got as much snow as fast, 3D meat

Y 'all Mike Jackson, Brian Zaps

And Mike Jackin' in the Biceps jacket

Wait, daddy, it's extracted

No Robert Johnston, nah, it's no actin'

Just bringin' plaques and a whole lot of backstin'

I'm goin' for the gusto, niggas get it

Throw it like the acid, blow those acid

Who's askin'? I got this shit on lock

Like it's dreadlock, in the headlock

New place is the WHC, I'm makin' heads knock

Nigga, I'm in the house

We got confidence in the house

Confidence in the house

Confidence in the house