Oh, yeah, yo, Ren, you ready to do this ***? Yeah, Dre, let's rip *** up. Hey, yo, Yella Boy, why don't you kick me one of them funky-ass beats? Yo, we got my own boy, Eazy-E, in the house. Compton's definitely in the house. Yo, Ren, what we gonna call this ***? Tell him what your name is. Yeah, something like that. All right, well, let's kick this *** on the one key. Back by the man that was big as ***. Because you was the public, you should know what's up. Compton's in the house was more than gold. It was a hit, because it was based on some crazy ***. So our final conclusion has been permitted. Punks made us a target, and knew that we'd hit it. But that was a part of showbiz. Hey, yo, homeboy, why don't you tell them what your name is? Well, for the record, it's Ren. And for the street, it's Villain. And strapped with a gat, it's more like Matt Dillon on gun smoke. But not a man of the law, I'm just the baddest mother***er that you ever saw. See, I beat, and then I creep on a fool. Get my blood pressure high, but still stay cool. Dig a grave for the nigga looking up to me. That really had the nerve that he could *** with me. Who was the man in the mask? Well, I was waiting to ask. You know it's MC Ren, kicking mucho ass, getting respect in showbiz. Hey, yo, homeboy, why don't you tell them what your name is? Dre, the mother***ing doctor. Bitch hopper, the sucker mother***er stopper. Back with a vocal track, that's the fresh one. So now, let's get the mother***ing session going. It's time to start throwing rhymes, so keep in mind all the suckers I'm blowing, because I'm going to start showing the time. Never saying I'm the best, I'm just going for mine. Unlike a lot of suckers who claim they're getting busy, when the records only make good frisbees, you need to quit running off the mouth. Stop and think before you put some wack bull*** out. It's not difficult. In fact, it's kind of simple. To create something funky that's original, you're either talking about the place to be, who you are, what you got, or about a suck MC. Aw, yeah, that's what I'm talking about, Ren. You know what I'm saying? Yeah, I know what you're saying, Dre, but you still ain't told them enough, man. All right, all right. Well, let's kick one more verse right here, all right? This is portable, something to *** with your ear. Ren and Dre will appear when the sound is clear. Don't *** it up like we always do, and that's the trick. Saying some *** to make the bitches want to suck our dicks, but it's an everyday thing. Communicating to y'all with the Compton slang. Compton's back in the house in your apartment, so open your door, by the way, so we can start it. Test the monitors and call this mic, because the way we feel, we're going to *** it up tonight. I got my mic in my hand with a hell of a grip. Bitches screaming and ***, now it's a trip. Waiting for the grand finale, or the end, or a stupid rhyme sent by Dre and Ren. We're like a kid. We get new shoes and go faster, smiling like hell. As we move past the suckers, to the mother***ers with the ego hype, when we're positive and they're on the negative type. And if you think we're about to quit, mother***er, you ain't heard ***. Yeah, now that *** was funky, you know what I'm saying, Ren? Yeah, I know what you're saying. This is MC Ren and Dr. Dre co-kicking it in the place. Oh, yeah, my Melo-Eazy-E in the house, yellow boy in the house. My boy Ice Cube, Arabian Prince co-rocking ***. Oh, yeah. Hey. I'm going to say what's up to my homeboys from C&W. Yeah. Hey, yo, Ren, what we going to call this ***? Tell them what your name is. Yeah, something like that. That. That. That. That. That. Woo. Woo. Woo. Woo. Woo.
