"Like Me" lyrics
(from "Streets Of Compton" soundtrack)
7:46, wake up, hand on my dick
Lakers lost by 30 last night, I'm talking shit
Roll up a Backwood, killer in my spliff
Reading GQ magazine while I take a shit
Walk back to my room, wake up this bitch
Kickin' her out, dick in her mouth, that Compton shit, boy
I'm on that monster shit, boy
Chopper out the trunk, on some Compton shit, boy
I remember flipping dimes and shit
Putting five to them planes, that La Bamba shit
Dr. Dre ain't got time for this, he wearing Beats
I got my ear to the ground, little nigga, I'm in these streets like
Streetlights and lead pipes, up in the projects
We gon' make it out but this shit is a slow process
Lean right, keep heat tight, don't ever digest
Hollow tips where your mind rest, you forgot
They don't make niggas like me
Nah, they don't make niggas like me
They don't make niggas like me
They don't make niggas like me
Was up
I'm that nigga that sold packs by the bungalows
Animal out here, my niggas in the jungles know
I'm cold like one below in Green Bay
Had the water on the block, to the fiends I was a stingray
I had a Z before I seen Jay
I had the West, I used to sling yay
But sometimes when tables turn like a DJ
Had them rocks and them bands like Green Day
I used to listen to, Project Pat tote straps and sell crack
Used to smoke that Bobby Brown, fuck rats and sit back
On my forte, was more yay, my enemies got gift-wrapped
The two nicks in two days, got new fits and new Js
Thankful for my two Ks, my vision clear as Blu-ray
Kill your ass today, knock the glue off your toupée
My guns like "hi", leave that shy shit to Lupe
Then chop the top off the coupe, doomsday
They don't make niggas like me
Nah, they don't make niggas like me
They don't make niggas like me
They don't make niggas like me
Cook crack nigga
Lakers lost by 30 last night, I'm talking shit
Roll up a Backwood, killer in my spliff
Reading GQ magazine while I take a shit
Walk back to my room, wake up this bitch
Kickin' her out, dick in her mouth, that Compton shit, boy
I'm on that monster shit, boy
Chopper out the trunk, on some Compton shit, boy
I remember flipping dimes and shit
Putting five to them planes, that La Bamba shit
Dr. Dre ain't got time for this, he wearing Beats
I got my ear to the ground, little nigga, I'm in these streets like
Streetlights and lead pipes, up in the projects
We gon' make it out but this shit is a slow process
Lean right, keep heat tight, don't ever digest
Hollow tips where your mind rest, you forgot
They don't make niggas like me
Nah, they don't make niggas like me
They don't make niggas like me
They don't make niggas like me
Was up
I'm that nigga that sold packs by the bungalows
Animal out here, my niggas in the jungles know
I'm cold like one below in Green Bay
Had the water on the block, to the fiends I was a stingray
I had a Z before I seen Jay
I had the West, I used to sling yay
But sometimes when tables turn like a DJ
Had them rocks and them bands like Green Day
I used to listen to, Project Pat tote straps and sell crack
Used to smoke that Bobby Brown, fuck rats and sit back
On my forte, was more yay, my enemies got gift-wrapped
The two nicks in two days, got new fits and new Js
Thankful for my two Ks, my vision clear as Blu-ray
Kill your ass today, knock the glue off your toupée
My guns like "hi", leave that shy shit to Lupe
Then chop the top off the coupe, doomsday
They don't make niggas like me
Nah, they don't make niggas like me
They don't make niggas like me
They don't make niggas like me
Cook crack nigga
Writer(s): Jayceon Terrell Taylor, Anthony Steven McIntyre
