"On Me" lyrics
(feat. Kendrick Lamar)
[The Game:]
Back when Dot was hangin' out at Top's in the Benzo
Freestylin' to them Chronic instrumentals, no pens and pencils
I was out there Bloodin' like a menstrual
With a Backwood clinched between my dentals, way back when
When we was outside with the indo
Hotboxin' rentals in front of Centennial
Remedial thoughts, never thought that I would amount to shit
"Smoke chronic, fuck bitches, ride around bouncin'" shit
From Impalas to that Harley truck, to dish-ragging bitches
That was hard to fuck, I came up, it was hardly luck
Just left Compton, and I ain't have to use my AK
What a day, what a day
[Kendrick Lamar:]
Back when my driver's license was baby-faced and triflin'
I made my way through crisis, I made my tape
And recorded portraits in front of sirens, I made you hate the vibrant
You can't escape the tyrant, you can't relate where I've been
In '98, my problem: actin' too grown and shit
Cappin' at bitches, yeah, my religion through songs and shit
On me, that's on me
Raise up, nigga, you are not the homie
Bitch, I'm well-connected from my section down to Long Beach
Fumblin' with Tetris if your block neglectin' your ki
Every day, I wake up with my face up to my Father
Makin' sure my heart is pure enough to grow my seed and harvest
All my green and stuff and double up my plantation with dollar
Every dream is such reality, my déjà vu done caught up
Bitch, I'm brought up with the homies, that's on me
24/7, Kendrick reverend these cold streets
Dog, we live by it, die by it, then reincarnate
And if Game told me, "Drive by it," I raise AK
Ain't no shame on it, cry about it, fuck that, I play
Like no name on it, blindsided, ain't no one safe
Documentary had identities of where I'm from
Therefore, my energy had to make sure the better me won
It ain't no better one, son, it ain't no tellin' me nothin'
Nigga, that's Chuck, Doc Dre and K, the legacy's done. Blow!
Oh, man
You thought these niggas with attitude would show gratitude?
Fooled you
From 2015 to infinity, it's still bomb weed and Hennessy
I can pimp a butterfly for the energy
Game, I need acappella
[The Game:]
There I go, give me a minute, nigga
'Bout to hit a home run, K. Dot, grab the pennant, nigga
Pin it on my Pendleton, trap late night, Jay Leno them
Got my mom a tennis bracelet, Wimbledon of Wilmington
Now, can I rap for a minute? Black on the track for a minute
Look in my rhyme book, see murder, like when I was a fan of No Limit
Ain't no gimmicks 'round here, this Compton, me, Doc and Kendrick
Chronic, good kid, my first—yeah, three documentaries
Now I'm blockin' sentries, 16 Impalas
They bounce like they're Iguodala
That's on my mama, niggas up and did me a solid
I put that on me, that's on me
You get a bullet fuckin' with the little homie
Thinkin' back then like, "Fuck your rules, nigga. This is Piru."
Slide through with the Erykah Badu
West side Compton, nigga, don't mind if I do
From Piru Street to my old street
Nigga this Compton, grew up on a dead end
Got an armful of dead friends
'Round here Crips be sweatin' us niggas like a headband
Like, "What's up, cous'?" (Yo dawg where you from?)
No time to stop and think
Pull your strap before they do or you get shot before you blink
Straight outta Compton, 3 times I told you
The third time I said it with TDE motherfucker
I'll make you eat every letter
Spoon-feed you niggas like toddlers, from the city of Impalas
When shot callers take their pitbulls and feed them niggas rottweilers
My clip full, I quick pull, no more slangin' 8 balls on the corner
And all them niggas I used to freestyle with, I ate y'all on the corner
Call the coroner, niggas dead out here
Hangin' onto life by a thread out here
Them niggas wearin' all that red out here
P snapbacks on niggas heads out here
So don't you come fuckin' with the little homie
So OG they call me "Tony"
Montana, no French, my red bandana legit
My uncle told me before he died, "Just keep your hand on the brick" (So I did)
Sell every chicken that a nigga had in stock, yes I did
Walked to Compton, hot pocket full of rocks, yes I did
Skipped class, yes I did, whooped niggas' ass, yes I did
Fucked a bitch behind the bleachers while on the rag, that's on Bloods
Westside, that's on Bloods, this TEC fly, that's on Bloods
You fuck with Dot, I'll let you choke on your blood
I put that—
[Kendrick Lamar:]
On me, that's on me
On me, that's on me
On me, that's on me
Raise up, nigga you are not the homie
On me, that's on me
On me, that's on me
On me, that's on me
Raise up, nigga you are not the homie
Back when Dot was hangin' out at Top's in the Benzo
Freestylin' to them Chronic instrumentals, no pens and pencils
I was out there Bloodin' like a menstrual
With a Backwood clinched between my dentals, way back when
When we was outside with the indo
Hotboxin' rentals in front of Centennial
Remedial thoughts, never thought that I would amount to shit
"Smoke chronic, fuck bitches, ride around bouncin'" shit
From Impalas to that Harley truck, to dish-ragging bitches
That was hard to fuck, I came up, it was hardly luck
Just left Compton, and I ain't have to use my AK
What a day, what a day
[Kendrick Lamar:]
Back when my driver's license was baby-faced and triflin'
I made my way through crisis, I made my tape
And recorded portraits in front of sirens, I made you hate the vibrant
You can't escape the tyrant, you can't relate where I've been
In '98, my problem: actin' too grown and shit
Cappin' at bitches, yeah, my religion through songs and shit
On me, that's on me
Raise up, nigga, you are not the homie
Bitch, I'm well-connected from my section down to Long Beach
Fumblin' with Tetris if your block neglectin' your ki
Every day, I wake up with my face up to my Father
Makin' sure my heart is pure enough to grow my seed and harvest
All my green and stuff and double up my plantation with dollar
Every dream is such reality, my déjà vu done caught up
Bitch, I'm brought up with the homies, that's on me
24/7, Kendrick reverend these cold streets
Dog, we live by it, die by it, then reincarnate
And if Game told me, "Drive by it," I raise AK
Ain't no shame on it, cry about it, fuck that, I play
Like no name on it, blindsided, ain't no one safe
Documentary had identities of where I'm from
Therefore, my energy had to make sure the better me won
It ain't no better one, son, it ain't no tellin' me nothin'
Nigga, that's Chuck, Doc Dre and K, the legacy's done. Blow!
Oh, man
You thought these niggas with attitude would show gratitude?
Fooled you
From 2015 to infinity, it's still bomb weed and Hennessy
I can pimp a butterfly for the energy
Game, I need acappella
[The Game:]
There I go, give me a minute, nigga
'Bout to hit a home run, K. Dot, grab the pennant, nigga
Pin it on my Pendleton, trap late night, Jay Leno them
Got my mom a tennis bracelet, Wimbledon of Wilmington
Now, can I rap for a minute? Black on the track for a minute
Look in my rhyme book, see murder, like when I was a fan of No Limit
Ain't no gimmicks 'round here, this Compton, me, Doc and Kendrick
Chronic, good kid, my first—yeah, three documentaries
Now I'm blockin' sentries, 16 Impalas
They bounce like they're Iguodala
That's on my mama, niggas up and did me a solid
I put that on me, that's on me
You get a bullet fuckin' with the little homie
Thinkin' back then like, "Fuck your rules, nigga. This is Piru."
Slide through with the Erykah Badu
West side Compton, nigga, don't mind if I do
From Piru Street to my old street
Nigga this Compton, grew up on a dead end
Got an armful of dead friends
'Round here Crips be sweatin' us niggas like a headband
Like, "What's up, cous'?" (Yo dawg where you from?)
No time to stop and think
Pull your strap before they do or you get shot before you blink
Straight outta Compton, 3 times I told you
The third time I said it with TDE motherfucker
I'll make you eat every letter
Spoon-feed you niggas like toddlers, from the city of Impalas
When shot callers take their pitbulls and feed them niggas rottweilers
My clip full, I quick pull, no more slangin' 8 balls on the corner
And all them niggas I used to freestyle with, I ate y'all on the corner
Call the coroner, niggas dead out here
Hangin' onto life by a thread out here
Them niggas wearin' all that red out here
P snapbacks on niggas heads out here
So don't you come fuckin' with the little homie
So OG they call me "Tony"
Montana, no French, my red bandana legit
My uncle told me before he died, "Just keep your hand on the brick" (So I did)
Sell every chicken that a nigga had in stock, yes I did
Walked to Compton, hot pocket full of rocks, yes I did
Skipped class, yes I did, whooped niggas' ass, yes I did
Fucked a bitch behind the bleachers while on the rag, that's on Bloods
Westside, that's on Bloods, this TEC fly, that's on Bloods
You fuck with Dot, I'll let you choke on your blood
I put that—
[Kendrick Lamar:]
On me, that's on me
On me, that's on me
On me, that's on me
Raise up, nigga you are not the homie
On me, that's on me
On me, that's on me
On me, that's on me
Raise up, nigga you are not the homie
Writer(s): Erica Wright, Jayceon Terrell Taylor, Stanley Bernard Benton, Jahmal D. Cantero, Kendrick Duckworth, Uforo Imeh Ebong, Cash Jones
