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lirik lagu not knowin’ how to act – og cuicide

[verse 1]
that crazy motherf*cker cuicide from the westside
leave a sh*tty mess when a n*gga do a homicide
dedicated to the game that i’m living in
and every day it’s a risk to the f*cking pen
no other choice, so a n*gga choose to g*ngb*ng
got to make my ends meet, so i’m in the dope game
f*ck, d*mn, it’s rolling slow
so i grab my gat and now i’m jacking for dough
inches coming fast and no witness where i’m blasting ya
straight from compton, that evilest assassin
not giving a f*ck, not giving a f*ck when i’m booking ya
nine double m, what i put in ya
splitting heads apart from ya punk marks
coming out the cut when i’m creeping through the dark
no it ain’t sh*t, put bustas on they back
’cause them n*ggas in compton, loc? not knowin’ how to act

[chorus]
not knowin’ how to act, not knowin’ how to act
n*ggas from compton puttin’ fools on they back
not knowin’ how to act, f*ck around and get jacked
n*ggas from compton puttin’ fools on they back
[verse 2]
a everyday life was a jack move
roll up to the spot, hit the scene, yep, it looks cool
so park the jeep at the back entrance
according to the cuicide, watch me handle biz’
walk in the place with the .44 [?]
slapping fools across they head, ain’t no f*ckin’ love
from a n*gga from the streets, loc
and my hustle to survive, jack or either sell dope
can’t be broke like the next man
so the f*cking mental case is plottin’ up a plan
and i’m only talking come up
to any buster in the game, got some beef? run the f*ck up
and get blasted with this ak
from that crazy motherf*cker that could surely bring a bad day
doing fools by squeezing the trigger
it’s the mister*mister cuicide, n*gga

[verse 3]
life in my city, grew up be a thug
catch somebody slipping, 211, do a mug
in motherf*cking progress, put it right through your chest
should have worn a vest, now yo’ ass is put to rest
smoked by a psychopath, [?] by a second glance
motherf*ckers just won’t learn, don’t [?] in, get that ass burned
compton madness, n*gga, from the west side of compton
where bustas get they ass whooped, pretending that they stompin’
don’t get caught up, n*gga, in a jack by a lunatic
crazy motherf*ckers do the most of the crazy sh*t
mister cuicide in the house for the ’95
tossing up a 40 oz., smoking on that indo’
slapping all you buster ass n*ggas up in your face
a motherf*cker that’s wound up to catch a case
blasting fools, doing fools
puttin’ n*ggas on they back, n*gga
[chorus]
not knowin’ how to act, not knowin’ how to act
n*ggas from compton puttin’ fools on they back
not knowin’ how to act, f*ck around and get jacked
n*ggas from compton puttin’ fools on they back
not knowin’ how to act, not knowin’ how to act
n*ggas from compton puttin’ fools on they back
not knowin’ how to act, f*ck around and get jacked
n*ggas from compton puttin’ fools on they back

[outro]
yeah, n*gga
mister cuicide from the west side, you know what i’m sayin’?
puttin’ it down with that funky sh*t, laid by the bone
[?] x*con in the motherf*ckin’ house, the dope fiends
put the [?] on the motherf*cking board, n*gga
yeah, much love to the county [?]
hah, yeah, and i’m out

- og cuicide

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