调：D minor
Verse 1
Bm
"Shit! Rick!
D
Em
Bm
C'mon man!"
D
A
Bm
D
A
Bm
D
Em
A
Bm
"Ricky!"
D
A
Bm
D
Em
A
Bm
Em
G
Em
G
Em
G
Em
"Help me! Help me! Somebody,
help me!"
"Ricky, Ricky!"
C
G
"Ricky!"
Em
Verse 2
G
Blood of a slave, heart of a giant
Em
Had to leave Aftermath,
Dre said I was too defiant
That was five years ago,
G
look how fast it go
Em
Destroyin' Interscope, shot
myself like Plaxico
Am
G
But fuck that, blaze one,
where the matches yo?
Em
Hit the freeway and see
how fast the Aston go
Am
Roll the window down,
G
clip off the ashes so
Em
You can see all my diamonds and how
much cash I blow
G
How many bitches I fuck,
how many cars I drive
D
Em
How many goons I got,
count 'em and they all outside
G
Niggas try to shut me up like Malcom
Em
But standin' in the window caine
Verse 3
smoking was the outcome
Am
G
Sometimes I get a little stressed
and pop a Valium
Em
Hit Hollywood late night and knock
down a stallion
Am
So niggas think twice about
G
my medallion or
D
Em
You'll hear Cuba Gooding yelling "Ricky!"
My nostalgia is one hundred percent
G
Compton and zero percent snitch
Em
Park a Bentley and the Phantom
on blocks while I use the pitch
Made the Cincinnati fitted more
G
famous than Griffey did
D
And just to think,
Em
several years ago they tried to split his wig
Am
G
Two to the chest, struck his heart,
one hit his rib
Em
Then I blacked out, like a movie,
all I could hear
Am
G
Verse 4
Em
Feelin' all fucked up, woke up to a doctor
G
Em
All I could think about,
was that the cops took my weed and my choppers
G
They want me to sing, like Sinatra,
Em
I told the detective
Get this clear like Belvedere vodka
Am
Them five shots,
G
they created a monster
Em
Hell's Kitchen comin'
straight out of Compton
Am
I seen Boyz in the Hood,
G
Morris Chestnut was a actor
Em
2Pac was the real life "Ricky!"
Then they shot down the nigga that shot him,
G
I swear to God
D
Em
If I'm lying then Compton is
New York and I'm Rakim
I'm from where niggas get
G
murdered over stock rims
D
Em
And punched in the jaw
Verse 5
just for a cocked brim
Am
G
Nobody mama let the cops in,
Em
we ain't got no options
Wanted to be a boxer, but I was boxed in
Am
G
Then my grandmother house
went up for auction
Em
And that's what killed 'em,
I'm goin' back to buy the block then
G
Too many niggas locked in,
D
Em
dig up Cochran and defend all my niggas
With they faith under stockings,
rather face
G
God then twenty- five
with no options
D
Em
If Compton ain't the murder capital,
we in the top ten
G
Drive by with our face painted,
like a clown
Em
With a tre- pound,
forty shells bouncin' off the ground
Am
G
This how my living room sound, when my brother got shot down
Outro 1
Em
G
Am
D
F#dim
D
Am
Em
G
Em
G
Em
Am
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Em
Am
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