[Produced by Willie B] [Verse 1] Lord forgive me... kill him where he stand and stand over him Shake his hand then jump back in that mini van Double back to his block and blam I ain't backing down for nothing I'mma back 'em down like Shaq with this black 2-2-3 in my hand Better pray that this chopper jam like a radio single, man Police radio signals saying that a 187 land On your corner, coroners comfort your momma "Momma he's dead" the next morning, I toasted up with my homies We drink and smoke marijuana, want us to change our ways? Uh-huh You see this game we play come from uncles that raised me in Compton Ask me what I have accomplished, I don't know I don't have conscience I just load up and start dumping on enemies; I'm head hunting No sympathy, ain't no love when you in these streets just get something Protect ya neck cause they coming for sets, respect, split your onion Then chop your deck your head tumbling like gymnastics (Cause ignorance is bliss) [Hook: Schoolboy Q] Now everybody put your hands up high If you don't give a fuck, put your hands up high [Verse 2] This the hardest shit you've heard from LA this far And I'm this far, from a discharge but never will I dish off We all tryna ball and when I got the rock I'll dish off Until the day I pistol whip you posers 'til y'all pissed off, then peel off In a hooptie, come back and make these niggas wanna shoot me And they bitches wanna salute me or seduce me Indubitably I'm too street, indubitably I'mma do me Better than your bitch would But you niggas too weak, but just give me 2 weeks and I'm good I'll make an album that'll put a smile on Malcolm Make Martin Luther tell God I'm the future for Heaven's talent No tarot card reading; I'm foreseeing you niggas vanish Not only from the rap game, I'm including the planet Cats so watered down clowns can sink Titanic Tie titanium around their neck and watch 'em panic Give me respect, dammit, or get damaged Die young, corpse identified by your parents Apparently you're a parrot, mocking me and my blueprint But I won't share it just make you cop it then call you a sheriff Stop it, I'm hearin' the comments The critics are calling me conscious But truthfully, every shooter be callin' me Compton So truthfully, only calling me Kweli and Common? Proves that ignorance is bliss [Hook] [Verse 3] And this still the hardest shit you've heard from LA this far And I'm this far, from a discharge but never will I dish off This my world, I grab the universe then play kickball And they wonder why these California earthquakes hit so hard I'm So-Cal, you so-called rappers need to go call Ghostbusters to shoot busters I'm Casper when I go off I show up, to show out and show off, you a hundred percent behind me And if you hard then wreck your car and walk up to my crime scene I remember being 17 wishing someone would sign me Now the only way these labels get me back is when they rewind me Backin' down bargains, backin' down bitches We gon' flip her once she off that blue dolphin, you gon' tip her Cause ignorance is bliss And Willie B, I'm a fool on your beats, I bleed out the speaker As the speaker that spoke when they didn't speak