Ricky Lyrics - The R.e.d. Album - Game

[Intro: Boyz in the Hood] 

"Shit! Rick! 

C'mon man! " 

"Ricky! " 

"Help me! Help me! Somebody, help me! " 

"Ricky, Ricky! " 

"Ricky! " 

[Verse 1:] 

Blood of a slave, heart of a giant 

Had to leave Aftermath, Dre said I was too defiant 

That was five years ago, look how fast it go 

Destroyin' Interscope, shot myself like Plaxico 

But fuck that, blaze one, where the matches yo? 

Hit the freeway and see how fast the Aston go 

Roll the window down, clip off the ashes so 

You can see all my diamonds and how much cash I blow 

How many bitches I fuck, how many cars I drive 

How many goons I got, count 'em and they all outside 

Niggas try to shut me up like Malcom 

But standin' in the window caine smoking was the outcome 

Sometimes I get a little stressed and pop a Valium 

Hit Hollywood late night and knock down a stallion 

So niggas think twice about my medallion or 

You'll hear Cuba Gooding yelling "Ricky! " 

My nostalgia is one hundred percent Compton and zero percent snitch 

Park a Bentley and the Phantom on blocks while I use the bitch 

Made the Cincinnati fitted more famous than Griffey did 

And just to think, several years ago they tried to split his wig 

Two to the chest, struck his heart, one hit his rib 

Then I blacked out, like a movie, all I could hear... 

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[Verse 2:] 

Feelin' all fucked up, woke up to a doctor 

All I could think about, was that the cops took my weed and my choppers 

They want me to sing, like Sinatra, I told the detective 

Get this clear like Belvedere vodka 

Them five shots created a monster 

Hell's Kitchen comin' straight out of Compton 

I seen Boyz in the Hood, Morris Chestnut was a actor 

2Pac was the real life "Ricky! " 

Then they shot down the nigga that shot him, I swear to God 

If I'm lying then Compton is New York and I'm Rakim 

I'm from where niggas get murdered over stock rims 

And punched in the jaw just for a cocked brim 

Nobody mama let the cops in, we ain't got no options 

Wanted to be a boxer, but I was boxed in 

Then my grandmother house went up for auction 

And that's what tipped [?], I'm goin' back to buy the block then 

Too many niggas locked in, dig up Cochran and defend all my niggas 

With they faith under stockings, rather face God then 25 with no options 

If Compton ain't the murder capital, we in the top ten 

Drive by with our face painted, like a clown 

With a tre-pound, forty shells bouncin' off the ground 

This how my living room sound, when my brother got shot down... 

Photos