Whats Really Going On by Tweedy Bird Loc Lyrics
[Verse 1 ]
Tweedy Bird got a bone to pick, some ass to kick
So give me the K so I can bust this dope shit
You say you want a scoop on the infamous group
You got the truth so let me take you back to the fucking root
Back in 1987 Eazy's selling dope by his mum's crib
Shooting dice at the park like all the niggas did
Taking the 8 ball to the head i guess the bitch had an idea
To play a crew and deal with a fucking Jew
40Gs on the hands of a white man
Trusted in him before you think about your own clan
So [?] high level, go grab a shovel
Because the nigga made a deal with the devil
You use to be a real McCoy
Until you came up and turned your back on your homeboys Instead of getting your homies from the park
You went out your way to hire a bunch or marks
Then you can say you put your real homies
On your video flicks - but save that shit
Because an excuse is only good for the person who makes it
You sold out and now you straight faking it
But that’s okay because the homies understand
You’re just another nigga owned by the white man
So take DJ Speed and that white girl Sally
Jump on that asshole band and take your ass back to the valley
Because what you preach is dead
So put that shit on your own kids head
And of course you ain’t no role model
So fuck your NWA and your ol' 8 bottle
And who the hell told you, you was a violent hero?
Take notes from me, bitch you’re a zero
As for your women you made your choice
You choose Terry B so now I’m fucking your girl Joyce
Yeah! I fucked her and I had fun
And no it wasn’t easier said than done
So take it personal because your respect is short
You better keep talking dollars 'cos you gotta pay child support
And it ain’t my fault the hoes'll get you for your riches
But you should had babies by twenty different bitches
I ain’t jealous, but bitch you gotta come home
But until then let it be known what really going on
[Hook]
[Verse 2]
Verse 2 goes of to the gangstas of America
MC Ren is a fictional character
Ain’t that a bitch, punk you ain’t a ruthless villain
You ass a lie, you ain’t never did a killing
Always talking kill this and kill that on the microphone
But couldn’t burst a grape with razorblade shoes on
Bitch tell the world the truth for real
You ain’t gon' kill nothing or let nothing be killed
Cause you a prankster
You and Eazy-E is the Milli Vanilli of gangsters
Got some records, fine cars and making a grip
But you are missing an Oscar for perpetrating as Crip
You resemble a bastard when is time to squad
Who you do a drive by on, a motherfucking mirage?
So you thought I would pay you no mind
But the nigga like the Tweedy Bird ain't blind to your kind
The only reason you punk come to Compton is to get to school
Pass out t-shirts to promote your fucking group
Nigga this is Tweedy B, you used to look up to me
But you got ghost when you dropped the LP
You went out like Eazy and your sold your soul
So fuck you and fairytale rapper CPO
That goes for Lil Nation, Chip and Pork Chop
Fuck around with the U-double-U-C and get mopped
Cause my homies got my back
A-K-A Double D, Kilo-G and Battlecat
My brothers told me it would be days like this
But the real niggas from Compton is on the KP list
KB, DC, Booboo, , , and all the rest I don’t mentioned you know the time
We’ll diss you but we really wanna peel your dome
I’m Compton strong so now whats really going on
[Hook]
[Verse 3]
I remember the days of old
When Yella and Dre was just like Prince wearin' pantyhose
Yeah fuck fiction I’m telling the facts brothers
Yella and Dre is two gay motherfuckers
[?] When they were in the Wreckin' Cru and became niggas with attitude
Dre, beat up on women like Dee
But I dare your punk ass to run up on me
'Cause I show you what's up
I treat you like a salad and toss you the fuck up
And Yella you need to go
'Cause you remind me of that bubblegum gangster Bazooka Joe
This goes out to Eazy and your whole damn crew
You don’t give a fuck about the homies
So we don’t give a fuck about you
You think black khakies and hat will make you brave
But you fuck with my posse and you end up in your grave
'Cause we give all we got to give
And don’t forget punks we now where your mamas live
'Cause when we roll, we roll hard
Straight outta Compton? no, your motherfucking backyard
So whats up with you, D O to the C?
I hear you got fucked up when you run into a tree
So now you need your ass wiped
Go call the doctor because you and Michel'le sound a like
Eazy [?] when Ice Cube left your ass
Dre blast and you think that shit is gonna pass?
As I expose the bitches and hoes, NWA stand for 'niggas weak anyway'
Another scoop on the punk ass group
You learned that Terry B is an undercover prostitute
How many winos have you known to wear a Compton hat? Besides Eazy, Terry B., bitch you ain't black
To Michel'le with that fucked up voice
“Something's in my throat” and it's a dick
To ATL you got a lot of growing up to do
We ain't the Lench Mob but we'll be stepping up to you
Shouts out to Tim Dog, I like how you punked their crew
But you dissed my city so fuck you
Make a note of this, next time don’t even speak
'Cause you’re just like a calendar, you weak
South Bronx got a problem is a female dog
So put your bitch on a leash if it's got teeth
And let me stress a little something
You South Bronx motherfuckers can't touch Compton
And to you D-Nice
Fuck around and ill be doing 25 to life
I'll fuck you up so bad you be yelling out peace
And when you get back home they’ll be calling you Denise
'Cause a punk like you ain't able
To stand up to me, so now there is crumbs on the table
I got the flavor 'cause my city is gonna stay strong
Time expires so now what's really going on
[Verse 3]
Tweedy Bird got a bone to pick, some ass to kick
So give me the K so I can bust this dope shit
You say you want a scoop on the infamous group
You got the truth so let me take you back to the fucking root
Back in 1987 Eazy's selling dope by his mum's crib
Shooting dice at the park like all the niggas did
Taking the 8 ball to the head i guess the bitch had an idea
To play a crew and deal with a fucking Jew
40Gs on the hands of a white man
Trusted in him before you think about your own clan
So [?] high level, go grab a shovel
Because the nigga made a deal with the devil
You use to be a real McCoy
Until you came up and turned your back on your homeboys Instead of getting your homies from the park
You went out your way to hire a bunch or marks
Then you can say you put your real homies
On your video flicks - but save that shit
Because an excuse is only good for the person who makes it
You sold out and now you straight faking it
But that’s okay because the homies understand
You’re just another nigga owned by the white man
So take DJ Speed and that white girl Sally
Jump on that asshole band and take your ass back to the valley
Because what you preach is dead
So put that shit on your own kids head
And of course you ain’t no role model
So fuck your NWA and your ol' 8 bottle
And who the hell told you, you was a violent hero?
Take notes from me, bitch you’re a zero
As for your women you made your choice
You choose Terry B so now I’m fucking your girl Joyce
Yeah! I fucked her and I had fun
And no it wasn’t easier said than done
So take it personal because your respect is short
You better keep talking dollars 'cos you gotta pay child support
And it ain’t my fault the hoes'll get you for your riches
But you should had babies by twenty different bitches
I ain’t jealous, but bitch you gotta come home
But until then let it be known what really going on
[Hook]
[Verse 2]
Verse 2 goes of to the gangstas of America
MC Ren is a fictional character
Ain’t that a bitch, punk you ain’t a ruthless villain
You ass a lie, you ain’t never did a killing
Always talking kill this and kill that on the microphone
But couldn’t burst a grape with razorblade shoes on
Bitch tell the world the truth for real
You ain’t gon' kill nothing or let nothing be killed
Cause you a prankster
You and Eazy-E is the Milli Vanilli of gangsters
Got some records, fine cars and making a grip
But you are missing an Oscar for perpetrating as Crip
You resemble a bastard when is time to squad
Who you do a drive by on, a motherfucking mirage?
So you thought I would pay you no mind
But the nigga like the Tweedy Bird ain't blind to your kind
The only reason you punk come to Compton is to get to school
Pass out t-shirts to promote your fucking group
Nigga this is Tweedy B, you used to look up to me
But you got ghost when you dropped the LP
You went out like Eazy and your sold your soul
So fuck you and fairytale rapper CPO
That goes for Lil Nation, Chip and Pork Chop
Fuck around with the U-double-U-C and get mopped
Cause my homies got my back
A-K-A Double D, Kilo-G and Battlecat
My brothers told me it would be days like this
But the real niggas from Compton is on the KP list
KB, DC, Booboo, , , and all the rest I don’t mentioned you know the time
We’ll diss you but we really wanna peel your dome
I’m Compton strong so now whats really going on
[Hook]
[Verse 3]
I remember the days of old
When Yella and Dre was just like Prince wearin' pantyhose
Yeah fuck fiction I’m telling the facts brothers
Yella and Dre is two gay motherfuckers
[?] When they were in the Wreckin' Cru and became niggas with attitude
Dre, beat up on women like Dee
But I dare your punk ass to run up on me
'Cause I show you what's up
I treat you like a salad and toss you the fuck up
And Yella you need to go
'Cause you remind me of that bubblegum gangster Bazooka Joe
This goes out to Eazy and your whole damn crew
You don’t give a fuck about the homies
So we don’t give a fuck about you
You think black khakies and hat will make you brave
But you fuck with my posse and you end up in your grave
'Cause we give all we got to give
And don’t forget punks we now where your mamas live
'Cause when we roll, we roll hard
Straight outta Compton? no, your motherfucking backyard
So whats up with you, D O to the C?
I hear you got fucked up when you run into a tree
So now you need your ass wiped
Go call the doctor because you and Michel'le sound a like
Eazy [?] when Ice Cube left your ass
Dre blast and you think that shit is gonna pass?
As I expose the bitches and hoes, NWA stand for 'niggas weak anyway'
Another scoop on the punk ass group
You learned that Terry B is an undercover prostitute
How many winos have you known to wear a Compton hat? Besides Eazy, Terry B., bitch you ain't black
To Michel'le with that fucked up voice
“Something's in my throat” and it's a dick
To ATL you got a lot of growing up to do
We ain't the Lench Mob but we'll be stepping up to you
Shouts out to Tim Dog, I like how you punked their crew
But you dissed my city so fuck you
Make a note of this, next time don’t even speak
'Cause you’re just like a calendar, you weak
South Bronx got a problem is a female dog
So put your bitch on a leash if it's got teeth
And let me stress a little something
You South Bronx motherfuckers can't touch Compton
And to you D-Nice
Fuck around and ill be doing 25 to life
I'll fuck you up so bad you be yelling out peace
And when you get back home they’ll be calling you Denise
'Cause a punk like you ain't able
To stand up to me, so now there is crumbs on the table
I got the flavor 'cause my city is gonna stay strong
Time expires so now what's really going on
[Verse 3]